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bride in my face.”
    “I told you she’s not a bridal candidate,” George insisted. “Why can’t you ever listen?”
    “Not a candidate? You seriously expect me to believe you?”
    “Yes.”
    George puffed himself up, appearing even more absurd, and not for the first time, Lucas wondered if George was actually his father.
    Lucas’s mother had died when he was a toddler, and he didn’t remember her, but there was constant gossip that she’d been loose with her favors. If the stories were true, Lucas couldn’t blame her. After all, the poor woman had been wed to George. Who wouldn’t take lovers?
    With George being so short and plump, and Lucas so tall and fit, they didn’t resemble each other in even the smallest way. It was definitely possible that they shared no common blood and would explain why he and George loathed each other and always had.
    “Her father is a friend,” George claimed, but he was fiddling with his lapel, a blatant sign that he was lying.
    “A friend you’ve never previously mentioned.”
    “You don’t know all of my acquaintances.”
    “Thank God,” Lucas muttered.
    “We went to school together.” The fiddling increased. “I told him I’d welcome his children if they wished to visit.”
    “His children? How many does he have?”
    “Ah...” George hesitated for an eternity. He was slow on his feet, and it was another good indication that he and Lucas weren’t related.
    Lucas could lie like a drunken sailor.
    “Give over, my lord,” Lucas scoffed. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
    Still, George persisted. “She’s staying for a month or two, and I’ve promised to help her gain entry into the best circles.”
    “Well, that will certainly ruin her chances.”
    “I expect you to be courteous and cordial.”
    “Shall I dance attendance on her? Shall I escort her about the neighborhood and introduce her to the neighbors.”
    “Why, yes, that would be very kind of you.”
    “And while I’m escorting her, I’ll just happen to grow enamored. Is that what you’re hoping?”
    “It wouldn’t kill you to attach yourself to such a fetching girl.”
    Lucas rolled his eyes. “Get it through your thick head, Father. I’m not marrying, and I’m most especially not marrying some trembling ninny you’ve selected. Stop playing all these games. Please!”
    “She’s not a trembling ninny!” George’s temper was spiking, his volume rising, as he wagged an angry finger at Lucas. “She’s a beautiful, educated, well-mannered gentlewoman of good birth and good reputation. You’re lucky she’d show her face in this house. You should be flattered!”
    “Flattered? Really?”
    “Have you any idea how difficult it is to find a female who would lower herself to have you?”
    “Yes, you’ve been very clear, so why keep trying?”
    “I had to scrape the bottom of the barrel with her. She’s doesn’t have any family to object.”
    “I thought her father was your close friend.”
    “Ah...ah...”
    His lie exposed, George flushed with chagrin, but he quickly recovered and drew himself up to his full height—which was many inches shorter than Lucas’s six-feet.
    “By God,” George thundered, “you will wed Miss Hubbard or I’m through with you!”
    “So she is a possible bride. You’re admitting it?”
    “Yes. I arranged the match, and I won’t apologize for it.”
    “And I won’t shackle myself to her, so why torment me? Why torment yourself?”
    “I am your father! You will do as I say!”
    “I haven’t yet.”
    “No, you never have, and look what’s become of you.”
    It was an old argument that had no resolution.
    From Lucas’s earliest memories, he and George had butted heads. If George said the sky was blue, Lucas would say it was yellow merely to be contrary. They’d never understood each other, had never gotten on or felt any bond.
    No matter how Lucas succeeded, how he thrived, it was never enough for George. Lucas had been belittled and berated