Christopher’s stomach clenched.These women weren’t interested in him.They wanted a replacement for their favorite rake.Someone to spend a pleasurable hour with, and never see again.He did not know how to answer.
Just like him, these women were here on holiday.Another man would have been delighted to accept any favors they might offer.But Christopher had no wish to become a copy of his brother.Nor did he wish to repeat the disastrous marriage his parents had suffered.He meant to dobetter.He wanted a match to last for eternity.
“Excuse me, ladies,” he murmured.“I’ve just recalled an engagement elsewhere.”
“Until later,” they purred.“You know where to find us.”
One of the ladies tucked a calling card into Christopher’s jacket pocket and whispered, “Directions to my guest chamber are on the other side.”
His plan to exit the dining hall posthaste was hampered by a dozen other ladies, begging him to meet them here or there on pretenses ranging from the mundane to nonexistent.By the time he burst out of the dining area, he’d lost count of the number of times he’d been propositioned.
He stalked over to the spiral staircase and hurried up to the sixth floor.How on earth had his brother lived like this?Christopher had wanted the distracting rake out of the picture, not to become Nick’s surrogate.Christopher’s fingers clenched.
Their sire would have loved this turn of events.Father believed that his ill-fated attempt to limit himself to a single woman was the cause of all the trouble in his life.He had warned his sons never to make the same mistake.Wed if you must, but keep as many mistresses as you please.The trick was finding a wife who didn’t care, not some shrew who cared too much.Love was a fairy story.
With sermons like that at home, Saint Nick could not help but be their father’s favorite.He was living the life their father wanted for himself.
On the other hand, bookish Christopher with his collection of globes and well-used telescope, had never been anything but a disappointment.
Until now.The past hour fending off the amorous advances of beautiful women would have been the first time he made his father proud.
An achievement he no longer wanted.
He banged on his brother’s guest chamber door.That he should need advice now after a lifetime of being self-sufficient rankled.But Christopher had never been in this position before.He needed to stop it.If there was an easy way to deflect unwanted attention without hurting feelings, Nick would know.
But he did not answer the knock.
Christopher raked a hand through his hair.His brother must be with his intended.Penelope Mitchell’s cottage was only a few hundred feet from the castle.He could be there in no time.
Provided the reception area in front of the exit had not turned into a gauntlet.
He hurried down the steps.As he feared, the public commons that had been all but vacant the night before now brimmed with activity.He lowered the brim of his hat to hide his eyes and dashed through the middle to the exit without looking up or slowing down.
When he arrived at Penelope’s house, his brother answered the door.
“How do you stand it?”Christopher slipped inside as if the hounds of hell nipped at his heels.“All the women competing to be the next hash mark on your bedpost?”
“I picked one,” Nick said cheerfully.“Technically, I picked the one who used me as a hash mark onherbedpost.”
“I can hear you,” Penelope said as she walked around the corner bearing a plate of fresh-made biscuits.“Good morning, Chris.Come join us by the fire.”
Christopher sat on the edge of a sofa and accepted a biscuit.
Penelope handed a stack to Nick, then set the plate next to a pair of glass turtledoves upon the mantel.
“What’s wrong?”Nick asked, his brow lining with concern.“Did your trip get canceled?”
Penelope leaned forward.“Are you going somewhere?”
“Chris is always going somewhere,” Nick said with a smile.“Help me talk him into coming back at least once a year or we may never see him again.”
“I hope to share my journeys with a wife.”Christopher lifted the calling card from his jacket pocket and flung it toward his brother.“Not with whoever wrote this.”
Nick let out a low whistle when he discovered the handwritten bedchamber directions on the other side.“Brilliant.Who doesn’t love a woman who knows her own mind?”
Penelope tossed the calling card straight into the fire.“You were saying?”
“See?”he said.“You know your own mind.I’m smitten.”He sniffed at her.“Or maybe it’s your perfume.”
