Undressed by the Rebel. Alison Roberts
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we’ll set a time limit,” Ethan said. “We’ll give it, say, thirty days.”
“A month?” Nick shook his head. “Aaron’s engagement lasted over a year.”
“But he made a slow study of it,” Ethan said. “You and I will handle it differently. We’ll select the woman we want and make an all-out marital assault. Sweep her off her feet. Then insist on an elopement.”
Nick shook his head. “I don’t know…”
“Look at the benefits. No long courtship. No long engagement. None of the parties, receptions or wedding preparations Aaron had to suffer through. Thirty days of concerted effort to land a wife, then it’s back to business as usual.”
Nick considered the notion for a moment and found himself warming to the idea. “It makes sense. But…”
“What’s the matter? Don’t think you can charm a woman into marriage in thirty days?”
Nick sat up straighter. “I’ve got plenty of charm.”
“Can’t maintain it for a month?”
“I can maintain.”
Ethan laced his fingers together and placed them behind his head, sinking deeper into the chair. “I’m not seeing a problem, myself. I’m quite certain I can find a wife in that time. If you don’t think you can handle it—”
“I can handle it,” Nick insisted.
“Well then?”
Nick considered his friend for a moment. “So what does the winner get?”
“Besides a wife in his bed, at his beck and call, every single night?” Ethan nodded toward the whiskey bottle on the desk. “How about a case of the finest Scotch in the city?”
Nick contemplated the bottle, then his friend and the idea he’d suggested. He’d thought about his future for a while now, and having a wife was certainly a part of that. Nick hadn’t envied Aaron and all the wedding rituals he’d gone through, so the quicker the whole thing was over and done with, the better.
And a case of Scotch was always good.
“All right, you’re on,” Nick said, and came to his feet.
Ethan rose from his chair. “So here’s the wager. The first one of us to be married—”
“Legally married,” Nick interrupted.
“—to a woman—”
“A living, breathing woman.”
“—shall be declared the winner.” Ethan glanced at the clock on the mantel. “We’ll give ourselves until midnight, thirty days from today. Deal?”
Excitement stirred in Nick’s belly as he shook his friend’s hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
After all, what could go wrong?
Chapter Two
She’d dreamed about Nick.
Amanda came awake as the first golden rays of sunlight streamed into her room. She rolled over and studied the ceiling. If Cecilia’s Aunt Winnie asked her what she’d dreamed about last night, she wouldn’t know what she’d say. She certainly couldn’t tell the woman the truth.
Settling onto the thick feather pillows, Amanda glanced at the window and the slice of sky visible between the drapes. From all appearances the day was dawning clear and bright. If this weather held, Cecilia would have a perfect June wedding tomorrow. Nothing else was acceptable for a Hastings.
Today would be filled with last-minute wedding preparations. Cecilia and her mother, Constance—and Amanda, simply because she was present—would probably spend hours going over them.
“Damn…” Amanda cursed and pounded her pillow. Wedding thoughts were only slightly more undesirable than recollections of Nick and the dream she’d had last night.
A light rap sounded on her door, and the maid she’d brought with her from San Francisco slipped inside. Dolly was a slight woman, no older than herself, with curly brown hair that frequently sprang from under her white dust cap.
“My Lord, Miss Amanda, you should see what all’s going on downstairs, even at this hour of the morning. Everybody’s hopping like grease on a hot griddle—just like home, when the twins were getting married,” Dolly said, pushing back the heavy, green floral drapes. “And when I walked by Miss Cecilia’s room just now, I couldn’t help but glance inside. Her mother, Miz Constance, was with her. I can’t say for sure, but I think she was crying.”
Amanda pushed herself upright in the bed, her first thought to go to Cecilia and see what was wrong. But tears the day before a wedding weren’t uncommon, and Cecilia’s mother was there to comfort her.
“Are you sorry I brought you down here with me?” Amanda asked.
“Shoot, no,” Dolly declared, grinning broadly. “I wouldn’t miss this for nothing.”
While Dolly selected clothing from the closet, Amanda slid out of bed. Even though the house was filled to capacity with out of town guests and relatives, Constance had given Amanda a comfortable room on the second floor.
Amanda walked to the window, her bare feet silent on the carpet. Outside stretched the mansion’s rear lawn—thick grass, shrubs, flower gardens, a gazebo and towering palm trees.
“My, it’s pretty here,” Dolly said, joining her at the window. “One of the cooks told me it don’t hardly ever rain down here. Wouldn’t mind living in a place like this.”
Amanda smiled. “What else did the cook tell you?”
“Oh, you know, just talk,” she answered. “Mostly about Mr. Nick.”
“Nick?” Amanda’s breath caught. She forced herself to look unconcerned, hoping Dolly hadn’t noticed. “What about Nick?”
The young woman grinned dreamily. “How handsome he is. Lordy, he’s a looker, according to all the maids. And just as nice as the day is long. Good to his mama, generous with the staff.”
Amanda’s heart lurched. She wasn’t surprised to hear any of those things about him.
“I’m plum crazy about him already, and I haven’t even laid eyes on him yet.” Dolly grinned. “’Course, that’s nothing you don’t already know, I’m sure, seeing as how you’ve been friends with him for so long.”
“Actually, I haven’t seen Nick in years,” Amanda said.
Ten years. Since that night in the snow…
“Oh, really? Well, how come?” the maid asked. “I thought your families had been friends since way back.”
Dolly had come to work for the Van Pattons only a year ago, so she didn’t know all the family history. Surprising, given how the servants liked to talk.
“That’s just the way things worked out,” Amanda said, and turned away.
“Now, if you don’t mind me saying so, Miz Amanda, there’s a story here you’re not telling,” Dolly said.
Amanda smiled. Dolly was so intuitive she seldom got away with anything around her. She could have simply said that she didn’t want to talk about it, and the maid would have respected her privacy—and remembered her place. But since Dolly had come to the Van Patton household, Amanda found she was more comfortable talking to her than her cousins, aunt or friends.
So telling her now what had happened ten years ago might be just what she needed to put it in perspective, Amanda decided. She’d have to face Nick over the next few days. Perhaps this would help her prepare—and keep her from making a fool of herself.
“It