“Me?” The whites of Upton’s eyes showed.

Lucy tossed the recalcitrant curl off her forehead with one finger. “Yes. You.”

Upton squinted one eye, pressing his fingertip to his forehead as if he had a megrim. “How could you possibly help me?”

Lucy’s grin was wide and unrepentant. “Why, you’re obviously in need of a wife.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“In need of a wife. Absolutely ludicrous,” Garrett mumbled to himself minutes later after the three ladies had excused themselves and returned to the house. The last thing he needed was his troublemaking cousin trying to matchmake for him. Why, Lucy had already spent the last few years convinced he was in love with Cassandra. Lucy had been entirely wrong about that, of course, but it had taken no small bit of discussion to convince her.

Garrett grabbed up the bow and arrow and took aim at the bull’s-eye. He released the bow, letting the arrow zing its way to the target. It hit right off center. Damn. Not quite as perfect as Miss Lowndes’s arrows, but he’d never give her the satisfaction of knowing it.

Miss Lowndes. What was she up to? Lucy was meddlesome. That was her nature. Apparently, Miss Lowndes was encouraging her meddling. Garrett had nearly asked them to explain whatever Miss Lowndes meant by that comment about her new chaperone. Could he survive another mad house party with Lucy up to her old tricks? He sighed. Something told him he was about to.

He plucked another arrow from the quiver and sent it zinging behind the last one. He grinned. Aha! That hit even closer than Miss Lowndes’s best shot.

“Well done.”

Garrett swiveled toward the sound of clapping to see Derek Hunt, the Duke of Claringdon, striding toward him.

“Claringdon, good to see you.”

At well over six feet tall, Claringdon was taller than Garrett though not by much. He was big, dark, and strong, a former army lieutenant general before being granted his dukedom for his decisiveness in the Battle of Waterloo. But for all of Claringdon’s recommendations, the thing that mattered most to Garrett was that the duke made his cousin Lucy happy.

“How have you been, Upton?” Claringdon asked as he moved to stand a few paces away from Garrett.

“I’ve been well.” Garrett pulled a third arrow from the quiver.

“Why do I question that?” Claringdon’s deep voice held a note of skepticism.

Garrett gave him a half-grin. Claringdon was wise. The man could obviously tell that Garrett wanted to broach a certain subject with him. An image of Harold Langford flashed across Garrett’s mind. His death. His screams. Garrett’s chest tightened in that familiar way it always did. Guilt, his constant companion. “I wanted to speak with you about the bill that Swifdon is proposing.”

Claringdon arched a brow. “The one for the soldiers who fought in the wars?”

“Yes.”

“What of it?”

Garrett took a deep breath. “I intend to help him rally for it, of course, as best I can. But I want it to do more.”