My Lord Hercules (3 page)

Harry was still grinning the next
morning as he sat at his brother’s breakfast table. The image of
Miranda Bartlett leaping from the hack and scampering around to the
mews behind Number four Curzon Street had replayed in his mind all
evening. He doubted he’d ever forget the sight of her shapely legs
as she ran toward her home. A more spirited girl he didn’t believe
he’d ever met, and that was saying something.

“
Fill your pockets last
night?” His older brother, Everett Casemore, the Marquess of
Berkswell’s voice interrupted the lovely vision still dancing
around in Harry’s mind.

“
I beg your pardon?” He
focused on his brother, who had at some point taken a seat across
from him at the breakfast table. When had he done that?

“
You’re smiling like the cat
that ate the cream. Did you abscond with the entirety of some
fellow’s fortune last night?” Berks eyed him warily.

Harry shook his head. “Did poorly at
the tables, actually.” But he felt like he might have won something
much more important, a battle of will and wits against a very
interesting young lady. She was quite the diversion from his
losses. She could, he suspected, be quite the diversion from a lot
of things, if given half a chance.

“
Who knew losing would make
you smile like a dolt.”

Harry shrugged. “I was thinking about
paying Pippa a visit this afternoon. You’re welcome to join me, if
you’d like.”

Berks frowned at him as though he’d
sprouted a second head. “I’ll be in the Lords today.”

Which Harry knew perfectly well, but
his mind was still in a bit of a jumble. If Berks was in
parliament, then Marston should be too, shouldn’t he? And Number
Four, Curzon Street, was not too far from St. Austell House. “Not
all peers take their responsibility as seriously as you
do—”

“
No, St. Austell won’t be in
his seat, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Harry managed not to snort. He
certainly hadn’t meant their dissolute brother-in-law. He shook his
head. “I’d be surprised if he was. No, I was wondering about
Marston. Devlin Bartlett was never meant to be the heir. Just
wondering how he’s taken to his new responsibilities.” And whether
or not Harry could count on the new viscount being at home that
afternoon.

“
Tragic,” Berks agreed. “And
the poor fellow has three sisters on the market. Having only Pippa
was bad enough.”

“
Really only two sisters
left,” Harry added. “Since the eldest has agreed to wed
Puttenham.”

Berks smiled. “Marston got off easy
there. Puttenham’s not the most interesting fellow in the world,
but more upstanding than St. Austell.”

“
The girl must be
level-headed.” Much more so than at least one of her younger
sisters. Poor Puttenham. “Man probably doesn’t know what he’s
missing.”

He must have given something away with
that last statement, because Berks’s gaze took on a scrutinizing
glint. “I had no idea you were so fascinated with Marston’s
family.”

“
No fascination,” Harry
protested. “Just making conversation.”

His brother didn’t look convinced.
“Uh-huh.”

“
So suspicious, Berks.”
Harry chuckled.

“
Whatever else you’re up to,
when you pay Pippa a visit this afternoon, do give her my
love.”

“
Berks sends his love,”
Harry said as he stepped into his sister’s parlor.

Philippa, Countess of St. Austell,
rose from her blue settee, grinning from ear to ear. “Harry!” She
rushed forward and threw her arms around his middle, squeezing him
as she had ever since she was a tiny little girl.

He hugged his sister back and then
tipped her chin up, so she’d have to look him in the eyes. If she
lied to him, he’d know it. “Is St. Austell treating you well?” he
asked the same question he always asked whenever he saw his sister
these days.

Pippa blushed a bit. “Jason is quite
attentive. There’s no reason to threaten him again.”

The devil if there wasn’t. Just the
idea of how attentive the damned earl had probably been to make her
still blush made Harry see red. Bloody reprobate. He still couldn’t
fathom how of all the decent fellows in London, Pippa had somehow
lost her heart to the wicked and debauched St. Austell.

“
Now tell me,” his sister
said, attempting to change the subject as she tugged him toward the
settee, “what brings you here so early today?”

The proximity of your home to Marston
House. No, that wouldn’t do. “Do I need a reason other than wanting
to spend time with my little sister?”

“
Usually,” she replied,
dropping onto the seat. “Not that I’m complaining. I don’t see you
nearly enough these days.”

Because her devoted husband was ever
present, and remembering how St. Austell had lied his way into
Pippa’s life still rankled Harry to no end. “Well, you’ll see me at
your ball tomorrow,” he said, taking the spot beside
her.

His sister’s face lit up and she
captured his hand with her small one. “I am so glad. It’s a bit
nerve-wracking to do the first time. I can use all the friendly
faces I can find.”

“
You’ll do wonderfully.”
Then an idea occurred to Harry. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?
“Tell me, are Marston and his family on your guest
list?”

“
Marston?” Pippa shook her
head. “I’m not familiar with the name.”

No, she wouldn’t be. “The Bartlett
family. They were in mourning during the Season, so you didn’t meet
them. But they are your neighbors at Number four.”

“
Oh.” Pippa
nodded.

“
Went to Harrow with the
viscount. He has three sisters, all about your age.”

She smiled, like she always did. His
sweet, ever-trusting sister. It was no wonder St. Austell had
manipulated her so easily. “Thank you, Harry. I would love to make
their acquaintances.”

And Harry would love to get his
sister’s opinion on Miss Miranda Bartlett after she’d met her.
“Actually, I was heading over to Marston House in a bit. If you
have an invitation ready, I can deliver it myself.”

“
You’re hardly one to play
messenger.” Pippa tilted her head to the side as though to study
him better. “Is there something different about you this afternoon,
Harry?”

“
Different?”

“
I’m not sure what it is,”
Pippa said, “but there is something decidedly different about you.
Are you up to something?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “What
could I possibly be up to?”

“
I was just wondering the
same thing,” drawled Jason York, Earl of St. Austell, from the
threshold. Then he nodded his head in Harry’s direction in way of
greeting. “Casemore.”

“
St. Austell,” Harry
grumbled.

“
I heard a very interesting
story about you this morning.” The earl stepped into the parlor.
“Something about you tossing a mysterious dark-haired chit in
gentlemen’s clothes over your shoulder at Gioco’s last night and
absconding with her?”

Pippa gasped.

Harry shook his head. “What a bizarre
tale.”

“
Indeed.” His jackanapes of
a brother-in-law dropped into a chintz chair across from Harry and
Pippa, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “And yet I
heard it from Heathfield and no less than a half a dozen other
fellows this morning.”

“
Harry!” His sister turned
her full attention on him. “What on earth?”

Harry shrugged. What else could he do?
If that many people were talking about the incident, it was better
to come clean. Somewhat, anyway. “I helped a girl find her way out
of the club, that’s all.”

Pippa touched a hand to her heart.
“What was she doing there?”

Harry would still love to know the
answer to that question.

“
Better question is who is
she?” St. Austell asked.

“
Not really certain,” Harry
lied.

“
You didn’t ask?” His
brother-in-law smirked, as though he could spot a liar. He probably
could, being one himself.

“
Jason,” Pippa
admonished.

How Harry would love to toss the
disreputable earl through a window. Obnoxious ass. He retrieved his
hand from his sister’s grasp and nodded in her direction. “I’d best
be off to Marston House. Shall I tell him to expect an invitation
from you later today?”

“
Marston will be in the
Lords.” St. Austell’s blue eyes narrowed on Harry. “But his sisters
are all reported to have dark hair, now that I think about
it.”

Harry glared at his brother-in-law. “I
find it quite interesting that you’re paying attention to reports
about Marston’s sisters, since you’re married to mine.”

“
Harry, Jason.” Pippa
sighed. “I would truly love it if the men I love more than anything
could manage to be in the same room together without coming to
blows.”

“
Sorry, sweetheart,” St.
Austell cooed. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

It took all of Harry’s control not to
snort. The blackguard couldn’t be on his best behavior if his life
depended on it. Still, he adored Pippa more than anything. So Harry
leaned toward her and dropped a kiss on his sister’s brow, just
like he had done most of her life, whenever she needed soothing.
“Sorry, Pip.” Then he rose from his spot, slightly tipped his head
in his brother-in-law’s direction, and said, “I should be going
though.”

Pippa smiled. “I’ll make certain to
invite all of Marston House, Harry.”

Perhaps Miranda should just march
herself down to Woodsworth House, pound on the front door and
demand the villain show his face. It certainly wasn’t the first
time that particular thought had crossed her mind, but until now
she’d dismissed it each and every time. After all, she’d be turned
away at the door and wouldn’t be allowed admittance over the
threshold, as she didn’t know the gentleman, nor any of his
sisters. No, she’d have to catch Woodsworth somewhere outside of
his home, where he couldn’t turn her away.

Blast Harrison Casemore! She would
have found her quarry last night if the Herculean brute hadn’t
thrown her over his shoulder. At the thought of the handsome
gentleman who’d turned her legs to mush, Miranda leaned back from
her escritoire. Her heart beat a little faster, though she tried to
ignore it. That was easier wished for than done,
however.