He had become resigned to his fate, more or less, until he'd found himself besieged by a horde of ambitious matrons and their equally ambitious daughters. He'd come to Paris for a respite from the hunt, only to meet the same fate here. Ash, whom he'd known since they were at school together, had offered to come with him. It had seemed like a grand idea at the time. Paris represented gaming, drinking, wenching, and dueling. That was the real draw - the dueling. In England, men still called each other out for some slight, imagined or otherwise, but it had become a ritual with no passion behind it. Pistols had replaced swords and no one ever got hurt. It was different in Paris. Frenchmen knew how to wield their small swords to devastating effect. It was an honor and an education to cross swords with them, not to mention a risky business. Not everyone put up his sword when the first blood was drawn.

Ash said, "Cheer up, Jack. Just think - once you've shackled yourself to some eligible girl, you'll be out of the race and the pack will turn on fresh prey."

Jack turned his head slowly and stared at his friend. "I don't know why you're laughing. We're both in the same quandary. In fact, you're a bigger matrimonial prize than I am. One of these days, you'll be a marquess."

"Ah, but I'm not a marquess yet, am I? That's the difference between us. All I have to offer are expectations. You, on the other hand, are a belted earl with a fortune at your disposal."

A spark of amusement glinted in Jack's eyes. " 'Expectations' be damned! You're wealthy in your own right. It suits your purposes to pretend to be a pauper."

Ash's brows lifted. "Can you blame me? I've no wish to be hounded like you or Devonshire. You see, Jack" - a satirical smile touched his lips - "I want to be loved for myself." He raised his quizzing glass and made a leisurely appraisal of the dance floor. "Is that too much to ask?"

Jack lounged against the pillar and eyed his friend with interest. "Careful, Ash, or you'll find yourself snagged by some dewy-eyed damsel with marriage on her mind."

Ash grinned. "But that's my point. Marriage is payment for services rendered. Love should be free. That's why I prefer to remain a single man."

" 'Love should be free'?" Jack made a small sound of derision. "Try telling that to the fair Venuses who hang around the Palais Royal. Haven't you noticed that they swarm around the man who has made a killing at the gaming tables? Wife or courtesan, it's hard to tell the difference."

Ash turned his quizzing glass upon Jack. "You're in an odd humor," he said. "I've never heard you complain of the Venuses at the Palais Royal. What's brought this on?"

Jack shrugged. "I miss my dog. She, at least, loves me unconditionally."

Ash laughed. "She's a slut. You told me so yourself. You never know who has been bedding her until the pups arrive."

"Ah, but I know it's me she really loves." His smile faded and he said in an undertone, "Don't look now, but our host has discovered our lair and is coming this way."

Ash lowered his quizzing glass. "Well, Jack," he said, "what is it to be? Shall we do our duty and partner one of those dewy-eyed damsels you mentioned, or shall we hide under that table over there and, if we're discovered, pretend to be looking for a priceless ring one of us has lost?"

"Ever the humorist," murmured Jack. "I prefer to meet my fate head-on."

"Better you than me. Ah, look who has just arrived, Lady Pamela Howe. Excuse me, Jack."

Jack was amused. Lady Pamela was an heiress, and his friend's strategic pursuit would only reinforce the fiction that Ash was in need of a rich wife to fill the family's empty coffers. Cautious fathers did not encourage their daughters to court fortune hunters. He wondered why he had not devised a similar ploy to save himself from the huntresses.

The answer came to him unbidden. Because, of course, Ash's grandfather, the marquess, lived in the wilds of Scotland. No one really knew him. His family, on the other hand, lived in Sussex, and there was also a town house in London. As a result, everyone knew their business. If he pleaded poverty, no one would believe him.

He sighed when he felt the hand on his shoulder. Resigned, smiling faintly, he turned to acknowledge his host, the ambassador.

Sir Charles said, "Can't have you standing around, Jack, setting a bad example to all the young sprigs. Allow me to introduce you to any lady of your choosing." In a humorous vein, he added, "One dance is all I ask, then you're free to leave and enjoy all the dissolute attractions of the Palais Royal."

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Copyright © 2005 by Elizabeth Thornton.

Tags: Relationship Fiction

About the Author

Elizabeth Thornton was born and educated in Aberdeen, Scotland, where she taught school for a number of years. She is the author of five Regency Romances and fifteen historical romances. She has been nominated for and received many awards including the Romantic Times Trophy Award for the best New Historical Regency Author and Best Historical Regency. Her books have appeared on best-selling lists and have been translated into many languages. More