Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)

Jeremy stood and turned, just in time to watch Lucy float into the room in a cloud of ivory silk. And then he forgot how to breathe entirely.

He noticed her hair first—the profusion of dark coils crowning her head, and the dangling tendrils that teased his gaze lower. To her cheek, where a rosy blush drifted under translucent gold. Along the delicious slope of her bare neck. Down to where her gown’s neckline ought to be. Down lower, to where her neckline actually was—where ivory silk clung to warm, sweet flesh like a dream.

Jeremy would have thought she could never look more beautiful than she had the night previous, in his bed. And indeed, she didn’t, not quite. But damned close. And there was a completely different thrill to this beauty. It affected him in a strange new way. Lucy looked her most glorious when naked and well-loved, of course. But that was a private display for his eyes alone. This morning, she would stand at his side before man and God alike, radiant as an angel. No one could look at her and not be struck by her loveliness. This wasn’t desire, swelling up in his chest, replacing the breath in his lungs.

It was pride.

“Good morning, Jeremy.” She smiled at him, a coy twinkle in her eye.

Jeremy nodded in reply, not trusting his voice. But inwardly, he agreed that it was, indeed, a very good morning. For the first time since she’d left his bed, he began to imagine something other than passion-filled nights—a lifetime of pleasant mornings. And when he thought about starting each day like this, hearing those words drop sweetly from her lips, knowing that smile was for him alone—this particular morning got even better. “Good” did not begin to describe it.

Henry stood. “Lucy, I’m glad you’re here. Come in, take a seat.”

She shook her head, smoothing the skirt of her gown. “I’ll get wrinkled.”

“Suit yourself.” Henry shrugged and dropped back into his chair. “But you needn’t be concerned about the dress. I’ve just been explaining to Jem that I’m going to do you both a favor and put an end to this farce right now.”

“What do you mean?” Lucy asked. “What farce?”

“This!” Henry gestured toward them both. “This engagement! This wedding!”

Lucy threw Jeremy a stunned glance. Jeremy cleared his throat. “Henry, I don’t think—”

Henry waved off his objection. “I’ve thought it all through. No one even knows you’re engaged, but the eight of us. Felix and Toby can keep their ladies quiet, I think. Lucy’s reputation needn’t suffer. I’ll take her to Town in the spring, and she’ll have her Season. You’ll both be free to marry when and where you choose. Everyone’s happy.”

Happy? Was the man daft? Jeremy couldn’t quite name the sick feeling rising in his chest, but he felt tolerably certain it wasn’t happiness. “Henry, listen. I’ve no intention of crying off. I’m going to marry Lucy. I have an obligation to her, and to you.”

Henry scowled. “Leave off with the nobility, will you? I know that ridiculous letter wasn’t yours.” He rose from his chair and rounded the desk, making the apex of their small triangle. His voice softened. “Jem, you’re my best friend. Lucy, you’re my only sister. I know each of you better than anyone else does, I’d wager. And I know you’d drive each other utterly mad.”

Lucy’s expression went from stunned to outraged. “Henry … I can’t imagine what you mean.”

“Of course you can! You’ve been sniping at each other for eight autumns now. Do you expect me to believe that would suddenly change?” Henry took a step toward his sister and lowered his voice. “And if Jem will forgive me for saying it, Lucy—all these years, you’ve been sniping at his amiable side. You think he’s overly sober here at Waltham Manor? That’s your future husband onholiday . Here, he’s a bit cold. The rest of the year, he’s a veritable glacier.” He cast a withering look in Jeremy’s direction. “There’s more to him than you know, Lucy.”

It was a true enough statement. True enough that Jeremy wasn’t at all certain how to reply. He just stood there, frozen, waiting for Lucy’s response.

Her brow wrinkled as she shifted her gaze back and forth between them. “I’m certain there is,” she said. “And I’m equally certain there’s more to me than he knows. What confuses me, Henry, is how that concernsyou.”

Henry strode back to his desk. “Damn it, Lucy, of course it concerns me. Don’t you realize that most men would jump at the chance to marry their sister off to an earl? I’m trying to do what’s best for you.”

And that was the crack that broke the ice.