Excerpt of In My Wildest Dreams by Christina Dodd

Chapter One Blythe Hall, Suffolk Four Years Later

"Garrick, you must tell me -- who is that beautiful lady I
met at the train station?"

Lifting his attention from the row of figures, Garrick
Throckmorton stared at Ellery. His younger brother stood
framed in the doorway of the study, his clothing
exquisitely cut, his blond hair styled perfectly, his
tanned cheeks flushed with becoming color.

Throckmorton had hoped to finish writing instructions on
the accounting to his secretary before putting in his first
appearance at the reception, but as he studied his over-
excited, excessively handsome younger brother, he realized
that would not be possible. He recognized trouble when he
saw it, and in this family, trouble almost always came in
the shape of Ellery Throckmorton. "A beautiful lady?"
Throckmorton blotted his pen. "Your fiancée, I would hope."

"No, no. Not Hyacinth." Ellery waved off his intended with
a sweep of his elegant hand. "Most certainly not Hyacinth."

The sound of violins, cellos and French horns drifted in
from the terrace and the drawing rooms along with the
babble of guests, arrived just this afternoon for five days
of festivities celebrating Ellery's betrothal to Lady
Hyacinth Illington. Therefore; Throckmorton realized,their
own voices could be heard -- not that such a paltry
consideration would occur to Ellery. "Shut the door,"
Throckmorton instructed, and waited until Ellery had
complied. "Hyacinth is quite a handsome girl."

"She's handsome enough." Ellery glanced at the cutglass
decanter of brandy onthe sideboard. "But this was a woman,
and what a woman! She --"

Determined to halt this liaison before it started,
Throckmorton interrupted. "Starting an affair at your
betrothal celebration is in extremely poor taste."

"An affair?" Ellery's long, elegant face grew longer. "I
couldn't start an affair with that girl! She's dewy with
innocence."

If Ellery didn't want an affair, what did he want?
Marriage? To a girl whose name was unknown to him?

Oh, yes. Such a romantic flight of fancy was bound to
appeal to Ellery. Handsome, frivolous, light-hearted
Ellery, who wanted nothing so much as to remain an
available bachelor forever.

Removing his glasses, Throckmorton rubbed the bridge of his
nose. "Dewy. Hm. Yes. But, as I'd like to point out, so is
Lady Hyacinth -- and she's your betrothed."

In a daring rush of words, Ellery said, "My betrothed, not
my wife."

Damn. Throckmorton should have known this whole arrangement
had gone too easily. He'd been waiting for the other shoe
to fall, and by God, it had -- not surprisingly, in the
form of a woman. "You didn't object to the engagement
before."

Ellery stiffened. He stalked forward. Placing his hands
flat on the desk, he leaned toward Throckmorton and glared,
his blue eyes narrowed. Only the length and sweep of his
eyelashes detracted from the menace he projected. "Object?
I most certainly did object, but you had high-handedly put
the announcement in the Times without consulting me."

"Pah. You could have raved and shouted until I withdrew my
offer on your behalf. You didn't." Throckmorton neatly
corked his ink, placed his pen in his desk drawer and
started to slide it closed. Something caught his eye, and
he opened it again. A pen was missing. Two pens. "Have the
children been playing in here again?"

"I don't know, and don't try and change the subject!"
Ellery rapped his knuckles on the desk.

The governess couldn't get here too soon, Throckmorton
reflected. The girls were running wild...or rather, Kiki
was running wild and half the time dragging Penelope with
her. The loss of his pens were the least of the problem.

Ellery said, "I didn't object because you never gave me a
chance."

"And because Lady Hyacinth is a very handsome female, and
anheiress, and the daughter of the Marquess of Longshaw.
And because you know it's time for you to settle
down, "Reflecting bitterly on the fate of his pens,
Throckmorton shut the drawer. "An aging roué is an ugly
thing."

"I'm only twenty-six."

"I married at twenty-one." Throckmorton waved his paper
briefly to dry it, then placed it in the wooden box on top
of his desk. Locking the box, he dropped the key into his
packet.

Ellery observed his every movement. "Father married at
forty."

"He had to make his fortune first so he could afford to buy
an aristocratic bride."

"Mother would tack your ears to a slateboard if she heard
you talking about her like that."

"Probably." Throckmorton pushed back his chair. The plain
brown leather furniture slid on a thick Oriental rug of
rich azure and peach on a background of winter white. The
stripped drapes, accented with gold, echoed the azure and
peach, as did the Oriental vases and the flowers they held.
Each artifact, each knickknack, each ornament was placed
with taste and gave the chamber a sense of tranquility,
which belied the chaos of Throckmorton's business life.

For the refined touches he could thank his mother. Lady
Philberta Breckinridge-Wallingfork had been but twenty
years old and the daughter of one of England's oldest
earldoms when she had been forced by her family's
impoverished circumstances to wed. Yet she had been a
dutiful wife to Stanley Throckmorton and a good mother to
the boys. Because of Lady Philberta and her family's
prestige, the Throckmortons were able to circulate among
the ton, to give parties like this one and see London's
finest in their drawing rooms. The ton might whisper about
them behind their fans, but never did those whispers reach
Throckmorton's ears, as the Throckmorton males had a
reputation for swift and righteous retaliation. "Lady
Hyacinth will add just as much luster to the Throckmorton
name as Mother did when she married Father."

Turning, Ellery leaned against the massive desk, crossed
his arms, and gave his impression of an ill-used man
brooding. “It doesn't hurt..."