To Wed a Wild Lord Read Free Page A

How could they be dead?
    He wasn’t sure how long he lay there sobbing, but next thing he knew, Jarret had entered the stall and bent down to lay his hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “Come now, lad. Buck up.”
    Gabe shoved Jarret’s hand away. “I can’t! Th-They’re gone, and they’re n-never coming back!”
    “I know,” Jarret said, his voice unsteady.
    “It’s n-not fair.” Gabe gazed up at Jarret. “Other children’s p-parents don’t die. Wh-why should ours?”
    Jarret bit his lip. “Sometimes things happen.”
    “It’s j-just like that s-stupid book about Cock Robin. M-Makes no sense.”
    “ Life doesn’t make sense,” Jarret said softly. “You mustn’t expect it to. Fate has a hand in everything, and nobody can explain why Fate acts as it does.”
    Jarret still didn’t cry, though his eyes were hollow and his face was screwed up in an odd way, as if somebody had stepped hard on his foot.
    Gabe had always liked Jarret the best of everyone, but right now he hated how calm Jarret was. Why wasn’t his brother angry?
    “We have to be strong,” Jarret went on.
    “Why?” Gabe shot back. “What does it matter? They’re still d-dead. And we’re still all a-alone.”
    “Yes, but if you let Fate have the upper hand, it will drag you down. You must refuse to be cowed. Laugh at it, tell it to go to hell. It’s the only way to beat it.”
    It wasn’t Life that made no sense. It was Death. It took people away for no reason. Mother oughtn’t have shot Father, and sparrows oughtn’t shoot cock robins. Yet they were all still dead.
    Death could take him away, too, any time it wanted. Fear gripped him by the throat. He could die any minute . For no reason.
    How was he to stop it? Death seemed to be a sneaky bastard, coming up from behind to deal low blows. If it came after him . . .
    Perhaps Jarret was right. There was nothing to do but stand up to Death. Or even try to ignore it. Gabe had played with plenty of sneaky bastards, and the only way to deal with them was not to cower, not to show that they hurt you. Then they went off to torment other chaps and left you alone.
    He thought of Mother and Father lying somewhere dead, and tears stung his eyes again. Wiping them ruthlessly away, he stuck out his lower lip. Perhaps Death could get him the way it had grabbed Mother and Father, but not without a fight.
    If it wanted him, it would have to drag him kicking and screaming. Because he would not go easy.

Chapter One
    Eastcote, August 1825
    V irginia Waverly could hardly contain her excitement as the carriage hurtled toward Marsbury House. A ball! She was going to a ball at last. She would finally get to use those waltz steps her second cousin, Pierce Waverly, the Earl of Devonmont, had taught her.
    For a moment, she let her mind wander through a lovely fantasy of being danced about the room by a handsome cavalry officer. Or perhaps by their host himself, the Duke of Lyons! Wouldn’t that be grand? She knew what people said about his father, whom they called “the Mad Duke,” but she never paid attention to such gossip.
    She did wish she had a more fashionable gown—like the one of pink gros de Naples she’d seen in The Ladies Magazine. But fashionable gowns were expensive, which is why she had to make do with her old tartan silk one, bought when Scottish garb was all the rage. How she wished she’d picked something less . . . distinctive to make over. Everybody would take one look at her and know how poor she was.
    “I can see that you’re worried,” Pierce said.
    Virginia stared at him, surprised by his insight. “Only a little. I tried to make this gown more fashionable by adding a net overlay, but the sleeves are still short, so now it just looks like an outdated gown with strange sleeves.”
    “No, I meant—”
    “Surely people won’t fault me too much for that.” She thrust out her chin. “Though I don’t care if they do. I’m the only woman of twenty I know who’s never been to a