Heather ate her breakfast, feeling deliciously sinful after her frolic that morning with James, and bathed and chose a gray silk gown. She pulled her chestnut hair back loosely in a ribbon, and went downstairs, to where her brother, Lord Holden, sat smoking his pipe in the salon.
"Good morning, darling brother," she said, walking over and kissing his cheek. She made sure enough cleavage was showing to spark his interest.
He swallowed hard. "Good morning, Heather," he choked out.
She smiled and sat down on the arm of the chair he was occupying.
"Holden, dear," she said, running a finger down his arm, "how is Lady Skylar?"
Holden's face took on a melancholy look. "She told me never to come again. She says we don't have enough money for her, and that she won't marry me." He pulled the five carat diamond from his pocket and looked at it morosely.
Heather rose and pulled shut the doors to the salon. "I can make you feel better, Holden," she said.
He looked up, hopeful. "How?"
