Sophia frowned. “Breakfast room? Now? Why—”
Mrs. Ward calmly propelled Sophia out the door, Ophelia following.
“Stephen and Derrick,” Mrs. Ward continued determinedly, “I believe you are needed in the kitchen.”
“The kitchen?” Derrick scowled. “I was going to sit here and read—”
“Come on, Derrick.” Stephen grabbed his brother’s arm and dragged him to the door. “You can read in the kitchen.”
“Yes, but—” The door shut behind him. Mrs. Ward soon followed.
Moments later, the room was silent and empty except for Chase and Harriet.
Chase sighed heavily and rubbed his chin on Harriet’s hair.
“What now?” she asked, wrapping her arms about his waist and snuggling closer.
What now, indeed. Life lay ahead of them, bright and shining and full of hope. Chase reached into his pocket and found the talisman ring. Then he took Harriet’s hand and slid it gently over her finger.
“Oh no! It will never come off!”
Chase kissed her cheek. “Oh yes it will. On the day we marry. And if it doesn’t, then we’ll just be stuck with it forever.”
She smiled and looked up him, her eyes shimmering softly. “Forever, my love, may not be long enough.”
Epilogue
Coo ’ee, now there’s a handsome man! Not as handsome as one of those St. John brothers, but that’s to be understood. The earth can only handle so much handsomeness afore it splits in half.
Miss Lucy, Lady Birlington’s upstairs aid, to Madame Blanchard, the French dresser, while eyeing the new footman
Devon St. John leaned back in the plush coach, stretching his legs into the farthest corner. The coach swayed and bounced, taking curves at breakneck speed as they flew through the countryside, going northward, toward Scotland.
Scotland, Devon decided, was safe. He would visit his friend, Viscount Strathmore, for a few weeks and then, when the way was clear, he’d return to England. But only once he was assured that the way was clear.
Life, Devon decided, was beautiful. He’d just escaped the largest trap ever to befall a man, especially a St. John. Somewhere back at a church in the tiny village of Sticklye-By-The-River, his brother Chase was getting married. In fact…Devon pulled out his watch and looked at it. The ceremony would be over in another ten minutes or so. Then, once the reception began, everyone would look around and see that Devon had already made good his escape. And Chase, already cursed by the ring and thus married, would realize that there was only one single St. John brother left in proximity—Marcus, the oldest. Chase would have no choice then, but to trick Marcus into taking the bloody ring while Devon cavorted merrily in Scotland.
Devon grinned sleepily. Sometimes he amazed himself with his intelligence. It really had been too easy. He snuggled in the corner, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes.
Several hours later, the coach crossed the Scottish border. Devon was awakened by the definite chill that had begun to crisp the air. He thought about asking the coachman to stop, but then thought better of it. They were making such good time.
Devon reached across the seat and grabbed the carriage blanket that was folded neatly in one corner. As he pulled the blanket toward him, a loud ping sounded in the carriage. Then another and another as something small and metal bounced along the floor and then rolled to a stop.
“No!” Devon closed his eyes, refusing to even look. Chase St. John had left the blasted talisman ring neatly tucked in Devon’s carriage blanket. And now, miles and miles from home, Devon was stuck, the ring was his.
He was doomed. Doomed unless he could come up with a way to circumvent the magical impulses of the ring.
The only hope Devon had was to avoid women. All of them. He reflected glumly on what he’d been told about Scottish women, of their innate passion and flaming good looks and in that instant, he knew he was damned.
Well and truly damned.
About the Author
KAREN HAWKINS discovered the joy of writing at the age of two when she found herself holding a red crayon and facing a lovely blank wall. Since then, she’s developed her skills beyond the crayon stage, though she admits that no matter her profession, her favorite exercise will always be writing checks at the local mall. A woman can never have too many shoes.
Winner of an RWA Favorite Book of the Year Award, as well as the prestigious Maggie Award for Excellence, Karen writes full time when not shopping for shoes.
You can contact Karen at P.O. Box 5292, Kingsport, TN 37663-5292 or visit her online at www.karenhawkins.com.
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Books by
Karen Hawkins
HOW TO TREAT A LADY
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AN AFFAIR TO REMEMBER
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A BELATED BRIDE
THE ABDUCTION OF JULIA
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Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
HOW TO TREAT A LADY. Copyright © 2003 by Karen Hawkins. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
ePub edition February 2007 ISBN 9780061745669
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Karen Hawkins, How to Treat a Lady
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