He arched an eyebrow. “Have you ever seen me with her?”
“Well, no. But gentlemen are supposed to be discreet.”
“Dahlia, it is all made up. Are you going to believe everything you read? I haven’t been anywhere with her in months. But I expect Lady Melinda is telling everyone quite a different story. It is likely she is the one sending this false information to the newspapers.”
Now Dahlia seemed quite shocked. Of course, she would be since it would never occur to her to lie about anything. “Why would she do such a thing?”
“To make a certain marquess jealous and prod him into offering for her hand in marriage. I’m just a captain in the Royal Navy. Lady Melinda is the only child of a duke. I can assure you, her father is not going to allow her anywhere near me. He wants a marquess or better for his treasured offspring.”
“Then he is a fool.” She shook her head in disbelief, her lovely curls cascading over her shoulders in breathtaking disarray. “You’d make an excellent husband for his daughter. Anyone can see you are a man of substance and ridiculously handsome, too.”
He laughed, pleased that she was offended for his sake and thought so highly of him. He liked all these Farthingale women because honesty seemed to be a trait among them. It would not occur to any of them to lie or manipulate in order to advance their positions. “Thank you, Queen Pea. But it isn’t going to happen.”
She turned to him, her eyes rimmed red and glistening, but at least she was no longer bemoaning her situation. “Ronan, what if it could happen?”
“What do you mean?”
“This book has worked its magic on my cousins and their friends. Even on my own sister. Why can it not do the same for you? Isn’t the point to reach for the moon? Who is to stop you from marrying the daughter of a duke?”
His heart was going to stop him.
Did Dahlia not realize what had happened when they’d kissed?
“Perhaps, but I will only do this with you, Queen Pea.”
She rolled her eyes. “Very well, King Bean. I will read the book with you because you’ve always been kind and protective of me, especially today, and I am very grateful. But just as you have always looked out for me, it will now be my turn to look out for you. You will have your elegant, ton bride. However, please be patient with me. I may not be very good at this matchmaking venture at first. You must understand my own heart is still reeling.”
“I know,” he said gently. His greatest concern was that Wainscott had hurt her so deeply, she would never be able to trust again. “We shall take it slow. In the meanwhile, your family will expect you to attend the various social engagements, and you ought to go. I’ll be there to watch over you whenever I can. If you want to sit in the wallflower corner or with the dowagers, that’s fine, too. I won’t force you to engage with potential suitors until you feel comfortable enough to do so. But it is important that you not hide away, or others will believe there was truth to that bounder’s cruel words. How does this sound to you?”
“Perfect!” Heather clapped her hands. “You are going to make brilliant matches for yourselves.”
Dahlia cast him a fragile smile and stuck her hand out. “Agreed.”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Shall we start tomorrow, Queen Pea?”
CHAPTER THREE
Ronan had never considered courtship a military objective requiring careful strategy, but he did now. It was that cursed kiss to blame. The one he’d given Dahlia, his Queen Pea, at yesterday’s party. He’d only meant to give her an innocent buss on the cheek. But she’d turned her head and opened her mouth at that very instant. His lips had landed on her perfect mouth, and nothing had been the same for him ever since.
That kiss had struck him like a bolt of lightning.
Now, all he could think about was Dahlia.
Bollocks.
He did not like feeling out of control, but he was. Heart thumping, body aching. Blood on fire. Half crazed, because he wanted to kiss her again so badly. Of course, it was not going to happen any time soon.
He sighed, knowing he ought to return to bed. It was well after midnight, probably closer to dawn, and he hadn’t managed a wink of sleep. He’d spent these past few hours alone in his bedchamber, sitting in a wing chair and watching the fire blaze in the hearth. He’d undressed, taken off all his clothes save for his breeches.
The fiery heat felt good against his bare arms and chest.
He’d been shot last year while battling pirates off the coast of Portugal, taking a ball in the arm and another in the thigh. The one to the thigh was merely a flesh wound, hardly anything at all. But the one to the arm had been more serious. He still felt the nasty twinges whenever the weather turned cold.
The warmth of the stoked fire was a soothing balm.
He rubbed his eyes, hoping the gesture alone could erase the sight of Dahlia crying on the bed, her hair gloriously undone and tumbling over her slight and slender shoulders.
Wainscott had completely shattered her innocent heart, leaving Ronan to pick up the pieces and try to mend it.
He would do his best, of course.
He brought his glass to his lips and drank his port before setting the empty glass back on the table beside him. Still unsettled, he refilled it from the half-empty bottle and then stared at the crimson liquid for the longest while.
Dahlia was as fragile as this crystal glass right now. Having been hurt, she did not want to think of love or marriage, nor would she trust men again any time soon.
It was up to him to restore her faith in those of his sex. How else would she ever fall in love with him? He’d given the problem several hours thought and now had a plan. Whether it would work was an entirely different matter.
But it was a plan.
He drained the last of his port, liking the warmth as it slid down his throat. When he was done, he set the glass aside, stuffed the cork back in the bottle, and made his way to bed.
Hopefully, his Machiavellian strategies would not blow up in his face as Wainscott’s had. His were well-intentioned.
Dahlia had to know he would never hurt her.
He was eager to share his ideas with Robbie MacLauren and Joshua the following day. The three of them had offices in the Palace of Westminster, among the oldest of the Parliament buildings. Joshua was a captain in the King’s First Dragoon Guards serving as the War Ministry’s liaison to Parliament. Robbie was a captain in the Royal Scots Dragoons, working as the Scottish liaison to Parliament. Ronan was a captain in the Royal Navy, working as the Admiralty’s liaison to Parliament.
The three of them had grown quite close over the course of their assignments and often tossed ideas back and forth among themselves.
They were now gathered in Ronan’s office, Ronan seated behind his desk, while Joshua and Robbie had made themselves comfortable in the chairs in front of his desk. “What is this about?” Joshua asked, casually stretching his legs in front of him. “Does it have anything to do with yesterday’s incident?”
“Och, sorry I missed it,” Robbie said. “I had to attend a regimental function. A damned boring affair, but I could no’ get out of it. I heard all about the excitement that went on at Joshua’s place. How did the little pixie take her sister’s humiliation?”