Duel of Hearts by Anita Mills Page B

to wed with me,” Leah informed her father sweetly. “That being the case, I do not think you should press him.”
    â€œLeah!” His eyes still on Tony, the old man raised his hands in supplication. “The chit needs a firmer hand than mine, my lord, but she ain’t as empty in the cockloft as she looks just now, I promise you.”
    But Tony’s eyes were still on Leah. “No, you mistook the matter, Miss Cole,” he pointed out evenly. “I said I had not made an offer of marriage—yet.”
    â€œYou said your title was not for sale!” she accused.
    â€œHere, here now, miss!” Jeptha Cole roared. “Where’s them pretty manners I paid for?”
    â€œWait—are you saying now that you are going to offer for me?” she howled indignantly. “You cannot!”
    In that moment Tony Barsett forgot what he owed his name, forgot that he stood in the foyer of a merchant’s house, forgot the presence of Jeptha Cole even. Staring down at her flushed upturned face, meeting those incredible eyes of hers, he knew he desired her above all others. It did not matter that her father offered forty thousand pounds in the bargain, it did not matter that she was a Cit’s daughter, and it did not matter that she’d refuse him. A slow smile of anticipation spread over his handsome face as he made up his mind to take her. “Yes. Yes, Miss Cole, I am,” he decided abruptly.
    â€œWell, I’ll be damned! If this don’t call for some brandy! Wilson! Wilson! Damme, where’s a footman when you need one?” The old man clapped his hands excitedly and called for the butler, who’d withdrawn discreetly at the first sight of Miss Leah. “Crome!”
    â€œAye, sir?” Thomas Wilson, the lower footman, was the first to reach them, followed by the aged and wheezing butler.
    â€œBrandy for his lordship and me! And ratafia for m’daughter! In the green saloon, and be quick with it! Lady Leah—if that don’t sound right! Lady Leah!” The words rolled off his tongue as though he’d practiced them a hundred times.
    Embarrassed by her father’s exuberant enthusiasm, Leah stubbornly shook her head. “No. Although I am cognizant of the signal honor you do me, Lord Lyndon, I must decline your offer.”
    â€œDon’t listen to her, my lord! She’ll be pleased to have you—pleased to be a viscountess, I promise you,” Jeptha Cole interposed hastily. “As for you, miss, if you don’t want to take ratafia, then see when the cook means to serve. Me and his lordship’s got business!”
    â€œPapa, you are selling me!” Leah screeched.
    â€œNo, I ain’t. Buyin’ him,” he retorted. “Come, my lord, the brandy’s excellent—got it from a smuggler off Cornwall. Fellow said it came from Boney’s own stock.” Taking, a proprietary hold on Lord Lyndon’s coat sleeve, he propelled him toward the green saloon determinedly. “Females! Never know what gets into ’em sometimes—say no when they mean yes, if you take my meaning.”
    Leah gaped, unable to believe what they’d done. Even given her father’s recent moodiness, his behavior was so unlike what she’d come to expect of him. A ruthless man in business, he was now toadying to a rakehell—a gazetted fortune hunter even—for no other reason than the fellow had a title. She watched the door close after them and felt a sense of shame and disgust.
    Inside the saloon, Tony took the glass from the footman and gazed appreciatively at the tasteful furnishings. Looking upward, he was surprised by the portrait of a lovely woman above the mantel.
    â€œYour wife?” he inquired politely.
    Jeptha Cole nodded. “Don’t do her justice, though—not as good as the one Lawrence did. I’ve got it in my library where I can just sit and look at her.”
    â€œShe was