The Heiress Effect by Milan Courtney

Author:Milan, Courtney [Milan, Courtney]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, historical romance, dukes son, brothers sinister, heiress, victorian romance, courtney milan
ISBN: 9781937248154
Publisher: Createspace
Published: 2013-07-15T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The evening of Bradenton’s gathering came all too quickly. After a few feverish days of planning, Oliver found himself in Bradenton’s home once again. This time, though, the house was packed with the marquess’s allies in Parliament, and so the rooms were rather too warm. There were more than twenty here tonight—a smattering of lords, Members of Parliament, and accompanying wives.

“Marshall.” Bradenton made his way to Oliver through the gathered group, looked about, and leaned in. “I have to say I’m disappointed. Disappointed and surprised.” His voice was low, scarcely audible in the din of conversation. “Everyone is here, and yet Miss Fairfield’s reign of ridiculousness continues unabated. I had expected better of you.”

Too bad Oliver’s own expectations had intervened. He smiled faintly. “Oh ye of little faith,” he intoned. “You said tonight, and tonight I plan to deliver.”

The marquess, who had been shaking his head, paused. “Really?”

They’d gone through the plan inch by painstaking inch. Across the room, Hapford caught Oliver’s eye. His fists clenched, and he looked away.

“Let’s just say,” Oliver said, “she is primed. By the end of the night, Miss Fairfield will know exactly where she belongs.”

“How delightful.” Bradenton smiled. “I knew you would come around. And yes, here she is.” He shrugged. “Knowing what I do, I can even be gracious.” He walked forward, a smile on his face. “Miss Fairfield. How lovely to have you here.”

Miss Fairfield’s response was lost in the noise, but Bradenton bowed and walked away.

Oliver approached her a few minutes later. “Miss Fairfield,” he said. “How are you this evening?” He already knew the answer. Her fingers twined together in nervous anticipation; her eyes were alight with possibility. He felt it, too—the thing they might achieve here tonight.

He felt a twinge of something stronger than anticipation looking at her. At the lips he hadn’t kissed, the veins in her wrist that he’d not examined with his fingertips. Of the smooth swell of her breasts, no longer occluded even by black lace.

Don’t touch.

And so he didn’t. He inclined his head to her as if she were a trifling little acquaintance, and then let her go talk to the others. She wasn’t his, after all. They were just…

Friends.

Yes, he thought. That. How had they come to be just that?

For once, her heavy gown was almost unobjectionable. Yes, her wrists blazed with sparkling stones, and the brocade at her hem was a little too colorful. But the great excesses had been slightly muted, changing her from utterly impossible to merely overly exuberant.

Bradenton returned to her side with a lemonade. She took it—and then, when he offered his arm—took that too. Oliver watched as the man introduced his set—Canterly, Ellisford, Rockway—one after the other, running through the names so swiftly that nobody would have been able to recall them. Jane, of course, had been coached. She greeted everyone politely by name. She smiled. And—oh, yes—she wasn’t perfect. She flubbed Lord James Ward’s title—he was Lord James, as his father was a duke, not

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