Three

"A title with papers? Full sponsorship? And deeds to all lands up front and awaiting turnover?" He wanted a solid lock on the deed to Roseford, one that the duke couldn‟t pull away from.

"And an heiress. All or nothing. Consider the winnings and the bride price."

He couldn‟t care less about some twit of a girl that Cheevers couldn‟t get rid of another way. She was a means to an end. He shrugged.

"I want to review the documents."

The duke‟s lips curled. Triumph shone in his eyes. Sebastien was a game to his sire, and he‟d known it since his disillusionment had begun. "I knew you would. Come."

The duke abandoned his half-drunk brandy and signaled to a man at the front of the club. Sebastien rose and followed him from the room, but not before he smirked at the rage in his half brother‟s eyes as he watched them leave together.

Harrow had been a hell for both of them, forced together at school, so close in age.

If those papers promised what the duke implied…not only would he finally gain his mother‟s land, but also a title and the inherent power associated. He brushed the sleeve of his coat. A past taunt rang through his ears—That expensive material can't hide the lack of quality beneath, Deville .

He smiled darkly and stepped through the door.

Project? Is this how you define the sale of your daughter?"

"Watch yourself, Mrs. Martin." Lord Cheevers tapped an authoritative finger on his desk. "I‟m doing what every parent should. I‟m securing her a husband. A strong one."

The oppressive feel of the Brown Room closed around Caroline Martin. The muted golds and dark earthy woods of the earl‟s study all combined to create a sort of world-weary and high kingdom that she could never breach. Caroline walked to the edge of the heavy mahogany desk, a barrier titanic in size and nature. "A strong one? You have no idea who will even win this competition."

"I dislike your tone."

She was a tenant on the land. A mere nobody, but for the fact that their families were distantly related—and more recently favor bound. It allowed for more familiarity, but she still trod dangerous ground.

She took a deep breath, ran a hand over her tight blond bun, and asked more calmly, "What if the man who wins is the lowest sort of blackguard?"

"Oh, that is unlikely to happen. The winner is likely to be one of four men."

He made another notation in the ledger in front of him. "Three out of the four are good choices."

"Three out of—" Her voice strangled. "And the fourth?"

He waved a hand. "An outside chance. Besides"—his eyes stayed on his ledger—"whoever the winner, the prize will be immense enough that he will become a prize himself, whatever his previous faults or station. Sarah will finally make a worthy match."

"She could make a worthy match if you but give her time."

He threw down his pen. "Worthy? She showed me what type of match she‟d make during the season. Likely run off with the first fortune hunter who gave her notice. I daresay your disastrous marriage would look like a picnic, and you barely qualify as a gentry. A similar mistake in the town would be beyond embarrassing for the family."

She bared her teeth, forcing her wince away. "You do her no credit."

"She does herself no credit. How I could have raised such a spineless weakling—"

"She is not spineless!"

"—it was obviously her mother‟s fault."

Caroline narrowed her eyes. "Stop this tournament. There is still time to do so."

He flicked back sandy blond hair streaked lightly with silver. Gray eyes narrowed in irritation. "I will not. And even if I wanted to, it is far too late now. The King has given his blessing. The London papers have started reporting."

"You could have the King rescind it."

The crackle of paper sounded as his grip tightened. "You overstep yourself, Mrs. Martin. I thought you had become a better model of behavior."

A drumbeat of fear thumped in her belly, but she drew herself up. "You will not dissuade me from this way of thinking. You can still have the tournament. But if you nullify Sarah‟s role, perhaps she will find a suitor on her own while the games are in progress."

"Absolutely not. This is to her benefit. And to mine. You don‟t think the men participating would be clamoring for her hand otherwise, do you?"

"You were hardly encouraging her to seek third and fourth sons and bastards during the season." She pinned him with the most ferocious stare she could muster. "Her first season out of mourning, if I need to remind you. She was quiet for a purpose. Besides, many smart women wait to see the new crop of suitors."

"The new crop will be much like the old, and Sarah will still be too lackluster to take advantage. Their eyes slip right past her." Caroline heard a gasp and saw a brown head duck away from the door. Turning back to the earl, she saw that he had noticed it too, and she gripped her fingers tighter.

"Girl, come in here."

Lady Sarah Pims slowly emerged from behind the half-closed door, brown head tilted down; if she weren‟t a lady her shoulders would be drooping and her feet dragging.

"Should have known you were lurking about behind Mrs. Martin‟s skirts."

"Yes, Father."

He walked over to her and lifted her chin. "You will make the best match of the decade. Celebrated, with a husband powerful enough to move the world. My daughter. A gem. A father‟s fondest wish."

The look of longing on Sarah‟s face was almost enough to make Caroline weep.

"You will participate in this tournament with nary a word of defiance, won‟t you? Be the good daughter of which every father dreams?"

Her friend‟s throat worked. "Yes, Father," she whispered.

"Good. Mind Lady Tevon. She is here to help. Now go outside and close the door."

As soon as the lock clicked into place, he turned abruptly and stalked back to his desk. "Being biddable is a good trait in a wife. Where she got her meekness from…"

He shook his head, and she bit her lip to keep from unwisely responding with exactly where that meekness stemmed.

"The only way she will make a good match is if I choose one for her." He sifted through the papers on his desk, mind already made. "As the prize of this tournament, she will be the gem of her age group."

"But the winner…what if…" The memory of Sarah‟s downturned eyes and distressed brown hair spurred her on. "Give her another opportunity to make a brilliant match on her own. Next season. Let me accompany her. All she needs is a boost in her confidence."

The earl‟s cynically amused eyes met hers. "You can‟t possibly believe that I will sponsor you for society? Someone who ran off with a stable hand because she was in love? Mrs. Martin." He snorted. "Someone who acted against the express wishes of her parents? Someone barely related to this family?"

She molded her fingers into fists, not allowing his words to cut more deeply than they already had. There was nothing she could do about the past. She could only look forward. And that meant helping Sarah.

"No. But I can remain in the background assisting Lady Sarah—a silent chaperone. I do not seek a season, nor the attention of society."

He looked her over, a snide perusal. "And you think that by standing at Sarah‟s side the beans will flock to her? Even with your severe hairstyles and unflattering dresses? More likely that every widow hunter and rake will flock to you instead, looking for exactly the challenge you present. And we will be back to the beginning, except with a year wasted, and in an even worse position."

The color drained from her face. The last thing Caroline wanted was to be in society‟s eye playing the widow-and-rake game, but the image of Sarah…"Let Sarah have a choice in whom she weds. She is your daughter. I won‟t ask anything of you ever again. You owe it to us, my lord."

"Owe you?" He raised a brow.

She touched the locket around her neck and looked him straight in the eye.

"Ow Papa, at least."

Every line around his eyes creased in anger. "No, Mrs. Martin. I fulfilled any debt when I covered for you after that debacle of your own making."

He thumped a hand on top of a stack of books. "Sarah will do her duty. And you are not to interfere, do you understand?" He observed her silence for a moment, and the steel he was noted for reflected silver in his gaze.

"Furthermore, you will assist in making this tournament a success and do anything I require."