“Hero?” Maximus’s straight dark brows drew together over his rather arrogant nose.
She’d often thought that Maximus’s looks suited his rank perfectly. If one closed one’s eyes and tried to paint the perfect duke in one’s mind, Maximus would appear. He was tall, his shoulders broad but not heavy, his face long and lean and just a tad too coldly commanding to be truly handsome. His hair was dark brown—though he cropped it close, as he habitually wore immaculate white wigs—and his eyes were brown as well. Brown eyes were often thought warm, but one impatient glance from Maximus was enough to disabuse anyone of that notion. Warmth was the last thing one would associate with the Duke of Wakefield. But despite all that, he was still her brother.
Hero smiled up at him. “Yes, I’m quite happy.”
Was that relief she saw in those stern eyes? For a moment, she felt a traitorous flash of irritation. Maximus had shown no sign before this moment that her happiness might be a factor in the match. The consolidation of lands and interests, the strengthening of his parliamentary alliance with Mandeville, those were the important considerations. Her feelings, as she well knew, played no part at all in the negotiations. And that was fine with her. She was the daughter of a duke, and she’d known from the cradle what her purpose and place in life was.
Maximus compressed his lips, surveying the crowded ballroom. “I wanted you to know that there is yet time for you to change your mind.”
“Is there?” She glanced about the ballroom. Mandeville House was exquisitely decorated. Blue and silver swags—the Batten family colors—intertwined with Reading scarlet and black. Vases of flowers stood on every table, and the marquess had hired and outfitted a veritable platoon of footmen. Hero looked back at her brother. “The contracts are settled and signed already.”
Maximus frowned in ducal displeasure. “If you truly wished to escape this engagement, I could break it.”
“That’s very generous of you.” Hero was touched by Maximus’s gruff words. “But I am quite pleased with my engagement.”
He nodded. “Then I think it time we joined your intended.”
“Of course.” Her voice was steady, but her fingers trembled just a bit as she laid them on her brother’s deep blue sleeve.
Fortunately, Maximus didn’t seem to notice. He led her toward one side of the ballroom, moving unhurriedly but with his usual determination. Sometimes Hero wondered if her brother even realized that his way was made smoother because people were quick to step out of his path.
A man stood by the dance floor, his back to them. He wore somber black, his wig a snowy white. He turned as they approached, and for a moment Hero’s heart stuttered in disbelief. Something in the set of his shoulders and the jut of his chin in profile reminded her of the rogue she’d argued with just minutes before. Then he faced her, and she curtsied gravely to the Marquess of Mandeville, chiding herself for her silly imagination. It was hard to think of anyone less like Lord Shameless than her betrothed.
Mandeville was tall and appropriately handsome. If Mandeville smiled more often, his looks would come perilously close to beautiful. But one felt somehow that beauty in a marquess would be gauche, and gauche was the last thing one could call the Marquess of Mandeville.
“Your Grace. Lady Hero.” Mandeville executed an elegant bow. “You are even more lovely tonight than usual, my lady.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Hero smiled up at him and was pleased to see a faint softening of his usually somber lips.
Then his gaze moved to the side of her head. “My dear, you’re wearing only one earring.”
“Am I?” Hero automatically felt both earlobes, her face heating as she remembered what had happened to the missing earring. “Goodness, I must have lost one.”
Hastily she removed the lone diamond earring and gave it to her brother to place in his pocket.
“That’s better,” Mandeville said, nodding approvingly. “Shall we?” he asked the question of her but glanced at Maximus.
Maximus nodded.
Mandeville signaled to his butler, but already the room was growing quiet as the guests turned toward them. Hero pasted a serene smile on her face, standing straight and still as she’d been taught from the nursery. A lady of her rank never fidgeted. She disliked being the center of attention, but it rather went with being the daughter of a duke. She glanced at Mandeville. And a marchioness would draw even more stares.
Naturally.
Hero suppressed a small sigh and inhaled and exhaled slowly, softly, and imagined she was a statue. It was an old trick to get through events such as these. She was a hollow, perfect facade of a duke’s daughter. Really she—the woman within—didn’t have to be here at all.
“My friends,” Mandeville boomed. He was well known for his oratory in parliament, his voice rich and deep. Hero rather thought there was a touch of the theatrical about it as well, but of course she’d never say so to his face. “I welcome you all here tonight for a very important celebration: the engagement of myself to Lady Hero Batten.”
He turned and took her hand, bending and kissing her knuckles very prettily. Hero smiled and curtsied to him as their guests applauded. They straightened and were immediately surrounded as the guests surged forward to offer their congratulations.
Hero was thanking a rather deaf elderly countess when Mandeville called behind her. “Ah, Wakefield, Lady Hero, I’d like to introduce you to someone.”
She turned and met wickedly amused light green eyes. Hero could only stare, speechless, as Lord Shameless bowed and took her hand, brushing smooth, warm lips over her skin.
Distantly she heard Mandeville say beside her, “My dear, this is my bother, Lord Griffin Reading.”
Chapter Two
Queen Ravenhair had ruled her kingdom fairly and peacefully ever since the death of her husband, the late king. But it is not an easy thing for a woman to wield power in a world of men. For though she had advisors and ministers and men of letters, she could not fully trust any of them. Which was why every night Queen Ravenhair stood upon her balcony and held a little brown bird between her cupped palms. She would whisper her secrets and worries to the bird and then, opening her hands, let him fly free, high into the night, carrying her cares with him….
—from Queen Ravenhair
Hero took a deep, steadying breath and fixed a social smile—neither too wide nor too small—upon her face. It was a very middling expression that in no way revealed the shock of finding out that Lord Shameless would soon be her brother-in-law. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Lord Griffin.”