Page 1 of How to Catch an Heiress

Chapter One

Chastity Hamilton, heir to the Roxburgh Dukedom and future Duchess of Roxburgh, awoke to the sun streaming through her window and across her bed. Her body warmed through the blanket. The cozy cocoon should have made her burrow deeper beneath the bedding. Instead, something hovered beyond the fuzziness of her sleepy brain. Something was wrong.

Chastity bolted upright. Today was May 30th. Two days before her wedding day. Nae, not just her wedding day--the beginning of her life sentence. How had Sir Stirling managed so quickly to marry her three sisters to three men? She was ashamed to admit she had doubted that three such good men existed. But they did. Within one month’s time, Sir Stirling James had married Lucy, her youngest sister, to Baron Delny, the Devil of Delny; Olivia to the privateer—a nice word for pirate—Gordon Frasier; and Jessica, her second youngest sister, to Lieutenant Patrick Chalmers—a navy lieutenant, of all things.

Lucy was the youngest in years, but Chastity had always thought of Jessica as the baby of the family, her kitten, the hoyden who swore she couldn’t be tamed and would never marry. Yet Jessica had blossomed into a woman almost overnight, and was thriving as the wife of a strict navy lieutenant. Though, even in the few days they had been married, it was obvious the lieutenant had changed as much as Jessica. Somehow, the two had discovered a middle ground.

Now, as his reward for making three such fine matches, Sir Stirling expected Chastity to honor her agreement and marry him. Determination burned hotly. Sir Stirling had called her a shrew. He had yet to see the shrew. The next two days would open his eyes to the life he would have if he forced her into marriage.

By the sun that poured into her room, Chastity estimated the time as seven-thirty—maybe eight, if she was lucky. She seldom slept even this late. But she’d lain awake worrying about her upcoming nuptials and hadn’t fallen asleep until the wee hours of the morning. Sir Stirling was due to arrive at ten to ride with her, and she planned on keeping him waiting. Now, however, it would be her who had to while away the hours until someone came to announce his arrival.

Cook would be baking bread and preparing for the wedding breakfast, which meant Chastity couldn’t even get herself a cup of tea. She released a breath. She and Papa were now alone in the house. Never again would Jessica burst into her room to wake her. No longer would she enter the parlor to find Olivia reading a book. Tears unexpectedly stung her eyes. What was wrong with her? She had no reason for sadness. Instead of running after Jessica, and worrying that some fortune hunter would compromise Lucy, and wishing away the sadness in Olivia’s eyes, she could delight in knowing that her sisters were happy. Their husbands would care for and protect them for the remainder of their lives, just as Papa had said they would.

But instead of stopping, her tears became sobs, until she feared a passing maid or even her father might hear. She covered her head with a pillow and pulled the blankets over her body. When force of will failed to control the tears, she finally gave in and let them flow freely.

At last, the tears abated, and shame set in. Was she guilty of her father’s charges?Had she sabotaged her sisters’happiness?Meeting the right man had changed Jessica’s mind about marriage. Lucy had only just come of age to enter the marriage mart, and Chastity knew she would have married in the next year or two. Then there was Olivia. The two offers she’d received hadn’t overly excited her, but was Chastity’s contempt for the men the reason Olivia had rejected them?

Olivia’s second suitor, Mr. Williams, had been far more respectable than Frasier Gordon, the privateer Olivia married. The problem, in Chastity’s estimation, was Mr. Williams’ lack of backbone. He was intimidated by Olivia's intellect. Oh, he flattered her, but Chastity knew that once they were married he would have put a stop to her bluestocking ways. Chastity released a breath. Olivia was ridiculously happy with Frasier. Things had worked out just as they should, and Chastity was relieved and happy for her sisters. Olivia and Lucy, in particular, wouldn't have been happy being on the shelf as she was. Her father had been right about that. He had been right about Jessica, as well. Was he right about Sir Stirling?

Chastity shook off the thought. Sir Stirling didn’t care for her as her sisters’ husbands did them. Now that her sisters were safely—and happily—wed, she could live her life as she pleased, with no man to rule her. All she had to do was get rid of Sir Stirling James.

Chastity awoke with a start. Warm sunlight beat down across her bed. She blinked the room into focus, then bolted upright. What time was it? She swung her gaze onto the mantle clock. Ten-fifteen. The fuzziness in her brain persisted, but she knew something wasn't right. Ten-fifteen. Then she remembered. She was supposed to have been ready at ten o'clock to meet Sir Stirling for their morning ride. Why hadn't anyone woken her?

She drew back the covers, jumped to her feet and hurried to the door. Carefully, she eased open the door and peeked into the hallway. Empty. She closed the door and faced the room. What had happened? Her father would never allow her to sleep while Sir Stirling waited for her. The man was late. She pushed from the door and began pacing. How dare he keep her waiting? What sort of gentleman failed to keep his engagements?

She halted. What if something had happened to him? Bah! Nothing had happened. He simply hadn't cared enough to arrive on time. She threw her hands up in exasperation. It was just like him to be late when she'd planned on keeping him waiting. Chastity paused again. She knew only one way to deal with a cad like Sir Stirling.

Half an hour later, Chastity stepped into her mare’s saddle and rode out of the stables. A light mist fell. She urged the horse into a gallop down the slope, then turned left when they neared the river. Typically, Chastity loved days like this. To her right, mist rose off the water, giving the morning an ethereal beauty. She often stayed out all day in this kind of weather. Today, however, even the beauty of the rolling hills didn’t improve her mood. Seething anger bubbled like a witch’s brew in her belly. Sir Stirling hadn’t the grace to keep his appointment with her.

Just as you intended to do to him, an inner voice reminded her.

“Because he deserves it,” she said aloud.

He probably assumed she would meekly await him in the parlor until he deigned to arrive. Isn’t that what wives did? This was the sort of man her father would have her wed. To his credit, Sir Stirling had saved Jessica from Lord John. Gooseflesh raced across her arms with the memory of how loudly Lord John’s bones had cracked when Sir Stirling's fist connected with his ribs.Satisfaction swept through her, just as it had when she watched Sir Stirling beat him. The man had deserved every blow Sir Stirling gave him.

Sir Stirling wasn't a bad man, perhaps he was a good man. But he was still a man, and men considered themselves rulers of all they surveyed—and their wives’ dictators.Today, Sir Stirling had only proved her point.

How she wished she could see his face when he arrived to find her gone.

A mile from Gledstone Hall, Chastityurged hermare down a gentle slope toward the shore of the loch. An ancient oak grew near the water. She could lay out the plaid she’d brought and sit under the tree to watch the water lap the shore. The book she’d put in her saddlebag would entertain her well into the afternoon, or until she became too chilled to sit outside. She’d even filched a few oatcakes from the kitchen.

She reached the tree, brought the horse to a halt and dismounted. After tying the mare to a nearby sapling, she removed the plaid and book from the saddlebag and spread the blanket on the ground beneath the tree. When she'd settled on the blanket, she set the book on her lap, but turned her attention to the water.

How would she fill her time once she was free of the encumbrances of marriage? Spend days like this, contemplating the world and her place in it? Now that her sisters were married, exactly what was her place in the world? She groaned. Surely, the answer couldn't be that, without her sisters, she had no place. She closed her eyes and released a breath. She would find plenty to do once she dealt with her supposed groom.

The clop of a horse’s hooves on the soft ground caused Chastity to yank her attention toward the sound. A rider took shape in the mist. She tensed. Strangers seldom rode across Roxburgh land. She never worried about encountering anyone. She recognized the horse an instant before she realized who the rider must be. Sir Stirling sat erect in the saddle, his hand casually resting on the pommel where he gripped the reins.

How had he found her? Irritation flashed. Her father, of course. He knew this was a favorite spot of hers. She was a fool to think she could find any peace here—or anywhere else, for that matter.

Sir Stirling angled his horse toward her mare, brought it to a halt, dismounted, and tied its reins to the same sapling. He strode to her haven and lowered himself onto the plaid.

She frowned. “It is highly inappropriate for you to come here alone to meet me.”

He met her gaze. “No more inappropriate than you riding alone." His words, spoken casually, held a tone of finality.

"Do not think to take me to task for doing something I have done since I was fifteen."

"Your father doesn't care that you ride alone?" he asked.