Barbara Metzger by The Wicked Ways of a True Hero (prc)

finding Corie a home of her own? Corie was not growing younger, Lady Cora reminded him and whoever managed to listen. His dear departed wife would not be resting in peace if her baby turned into an old maid. Then she offered to finance Cories entire Season, appealing to Abbotts so miserly nature.
     
     
Now that she thought about it, Corie supposed her clothes, her food, the very postage for the letters she wrote, were all charged to the Stamfield purse, not Lady Coras personal accounts. Good grief, was it Mr. Stamfields money paying for this visit? If so, Lady Coras son had another reason to resent her presence, as if he needed another one. Suddenly she felt warm, so she tugged the scratchy lace fichu away from her neck and shoulders.
     
     
Now the man was making her sweat! Lord, how could she set her mind to finding a husband when she had to keep looking over her shoulder to see if he was nearby, scowling at her, ready to frighten off any prospective suitors? She could never relax when any loose-lipped utterance from the bumbling sot could destroy the rest of her life, too. As for having fun, sharing Susannas joy in the coming Season, well, that was out of the question now, thanks to slimy Daniel Stamfield.
     
     
How could Lady Cora love the muckworm? Didnt she see he was churlish and crude? Corie forced herself to acknowledge he did clean up nicely, in a rough-and-tumble, hulking way. Of course he was too big to make a woman feel comfortable, even in the trappings of a gentleman. The threat of violence was always in his size.
     
     
He did have beautiful eyes, she admitted, brighter and a more intense blue than Lady Coras or Susannas, with thicker black lashes. The effect of those sapphire eyes was ruined by a broken nose from some fight or other. His lips were full and nicely formed, she supposed. Some women might find them appealing. Some women kept pet pigs, too.
     
     
Stamfields finest quality, from what shed seen or heard of him, was he was loyal to his family and kind to his mother. Hed come to his cousins aid whenever they asked it of him, and now hed answered Lady Coras call. Everyone knew hed rather visit some sordid gaming hell than dance at a debutante ball. He much preferred smoke and ale to punch and perfume, the company of light-skirts to that of ladies. Yet here he was, dutiful son, devoted brother. Corie clutched that thought to her bosom, like a lifeline. He wouldnt bring disgrace on them. His love for his family wouldnt let him, and that just might save her.
     
     
He doted on Susanna, who was as unlike him as chalk from cheese. Bright and sunny, she did not have a drop of venom in her. Mischief, yes, but never malice. Stamfield obviously adored her. He said he would not press her to wed, nor urge a gentleman of his choice on her. Hed never force her to marry a man she could not love. The decision was hers, he promised, when she was ready. Stamfield wouldnt do anything to ruin his sisters chances.
     
     
That calmed Cories rattled nerves. Or else the brandy did. Another drop or two and maybe shed be able to sleep, to look forward to tomorrow, to new gowns, a new start. Finally her fate was in her own hands. Daniel Stamfields ham-sized hands were not, metaphorically, around her throat.
     
     
Why, she might even manage to find other redeeming qualities in him, if she tried hard enough. He might be a gambler, but he hadnt lost his fortune or mortgaged his ancestral home, the way many other sprigs of society did. He wasnt a dandy, that was for sure, puffed up in his own conceit and padded shoulders. Nor was he a sports-mad Corinthian, spending all his time and money on highbred horses. According to her maid, who heard it from the footman, who played dice with the groom, his mount was a placid plug, good for nothing but to carry Stamfields extra weight.
     
     
She supposed he was no worse than any other town buck out for his own selfish pleasure. The difference was Lady Coras son chose seedier