Free Candlelight Wish by Janice Bennett

future, had suited her to perfection. His younger brother Harry—God rest his soul—had been army-mad since a youth and never so much as looked at a lady until Miles had pointed out the plain adoring Isabel who lived on the adjoining estate. The girl had thrilled at the chance to follow the drum with her beloved husband. Juliana, next in his line of siblings, had dreamed of social—and sartorial—prominence. He had introduced her to a member of Brummell’s set who had elevated her to the elite as one of society’s leading hostesses. His sister Susanna, always independent, had found the naval captain he presented to her exactly to her liking, not minding his extended absences but always delighting in his returns. All happy marriages, all based on mutual interests and temperaments.
    And then there was Lucilla. His youngest sister talked of love with that starry-eyed enchantment of one who hadn’t the faintest understanding of what she spoke about. At seventeen the girl didn’t yet know the difference between a lasting emotion and a far more fleeting, if intense, infatuation. Somehow he had to find her a suitable husband—one who could make her happy, one who could handle her—before she ruined herself with her outrageous behavior.
    The door opened behind him and he dragged his gaze from the flames to see his sister standing on the threshold, eyeing him with disapprobation. “You are late,” he pointed out but with a smile as this was the norm.
    She wrinkled her nose. “Was it worth it? Do you like my new gown?”
    In truth he hadn’t really noticed it. But recalled to a sense of brotherly duty he duly admired the half robe of white gauze, open down the front to reveal a white muslin underdress threaded through with green ribands. “Very pretty.”
    “Pretty!” she cried. “Miles, you are a beast! It’s perfectly beautiful and just the thing for dinner with our neighbors, do you not think?”
    Actually he hadn’t given the matter any thought whatsoever. He knew his own rig to be suitable but the intricacies of female apparel—and their apparent enjoyment in discussing it in minute detail—escaped him. He fell back on a tested and assured response. “I stand corrected. You look delightful.”
    Lucy beamed on him and ran forward, grasping his hands. “Thank you. You can be the dearest of brothers when you set your mind to it.”
    The implication that he could also be the vilest did not need to be spoken between them. That discussion had taken place during the journey to town and involved the names of more than one half-pay lieutenant and a variety of clandestine meetings that would have resulted in a shocking scandal had he not removed her swiftly first from their home in Surrey and then from Bath. Lucy was already proving more of a handful than his other three sisters combined.
    Why in blazes did the girl have to pine after opportunists and fortune hunters? A young gentleman every bit as dashing and romantic as Lucy could wish lived right at her doorstep yet the eyes of long familiarity throughout childhood blinded her to the charms other young ladies noted in an instant. If she didn’t wake up soon, Lord Ashby might well drop the handkerchief elsewhere.
    “You aren’t wearing Papa’s fob!” she cried. “Oh Miles, you can be so very vexatious. When I particularly asked Vines to make sure you looked your best.”
    “He tried. What makes you think I shall like this female you’ve found?”
    Lucy’s eyes widened and she looked away at once. “Why whatever can you mean? What female?”
    His deep chuckle escaped him. “I’m too old a dog to be fooled by such tricks, my dear. Who is she?”
    Her breath escaped her in a rush. “Oh Miles, I have not so much as laid eyes upon her yet but Aunt Jane thinks she may be the very thing! She is quite old—several years over twenty she assured me—and she says that this lady regards one in the most straightforward manner and all the while there is laughter