by Bold, Diana
AS CHRISTIAN FOLLOWED Lady Rebecca and Lady Sabrina down the hall to the dining room, a feeling of doom settled over him, impossible to shake. Obviously, he and Theo had completely misinterpreted this situation. He very highly doubted that Andrew’s mistress would have a chaperone!
Lady Rebecca was perhaps twenty years old, a lovely redhead with the most gorgeous blue eyes. She was short, not even reaching his chin, but lushly curved. Her features were angelic, a small button nose and full, kissable lips. But he’d bet the estate he’d just commandeered that the girl was a virgin.
The cousin, Lady Sabrina, was older. She was also lovely, a statuesque blonde. He might believe that she was Andrew’s mistress, but the invitation had come from Lady Rebecca, not Lady Sabrina.
He felt entirely out of his element, making small talk with these two ladies. How would he get through an entire meal without giving himself away? There seemed to be a history between Lady Rebecca and Andrew, and he didn’t know how long claiming a head injury was going to suffice.
What kind of understanding had his half-brother had with this girl? The looks she’d been giving him, hurt mixed with confusion, didn’t bode well.
They entered a lovely dining room, dominated by a huge mahogany table that could easily seat twenty. Three lone place settings sat at one end, an abundance of crystal, silver, and china. He took the place Lady Rebecca indicated at the head of the table, and the two ladies settled on either side of him. The room was finely appointed with deep green wallpaper and expensive-looking paintings of hunting scenes. Very masculine. He suddenly recalled something Lady Rebecca had said earlier.
“Your father is in London?” he said, hoping to start a conversation that would give him more information about who this girl had been to Andrew while also diverting talk from himself.
“Yes, I’m afraid he won’t be back for at least a month. He’s in London for the Season. He’ll be sorry to have missed you.” Lady Rebecca paused for a moment, seeming to gird herself. “I’m sure that once he returns, he’ll want to discuss the marriage contract.”
Marriage contract?
Christian felt the blood drain from his face, and he groped blindly for the glass of wine one of the servants had just poured him. Andrew had been engaged to Lady Rebecca? Good God! How had Theo not known this?
“We’ve all been looking forward to your return,” Lady Sabrina said, sparing him from having to answer immediately. “Three years is a terribly long engagement, though we all very much admire your service to the Crown. However, now that you’re home, I’m sure both you and Rebecca are looking forward to finally beginning your life together.”
He took another deep swallow of wine, inwardly cursing Theo for having convinced him he could pull this off. He’d never convince Andrew’s fiancée of this farce. Hell, he was surprised the girl hadn’t sounded the alarm already.
Christian cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. I thought of little else while I was away.”
He dared a glance at Lady Rebecca, only to find her sweet brow furrowed with suspicion. Had he overplayed it? Thinking back to what he knew of Andrew, perhaps he had.
“If you thought of me so often, perhaps you should have written me more than three letters in the past three years,” Lady Rebecca murmured, a flash of pain and anger in those expressive eyes.
Three letters? Christian winced inwardly. Oh, Andrew. How could you leave this poor girl here to languish?
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I should have written more often.”
A heavy silence fell over the table, and Christian was glad when a servant came in with the next course of the meal.
Again, Lady Sabrina came to the rescue. “Were you at the Duchess of Richmond’s ball when Wellington sent you all out into battle?”
He welcomed the change of topic. Although he had not actually been at the ball, being nothing more than a corporal, he’d spent plenty of time on the hospital ship with those officers who had been. Enough so that he was able to regale the ladies with stories of adventure.
Lady Sabrina seemed enthralled but an occasional glance in Lady Rebecca’s direction found her to be staring at him thoughtfully, her face devoid of any emotion. It made him supremely uncomfortable, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d already figured him out. Would the constables arrive at Trowbridge Manor later that night and accuse him of impersonating Andrew? Perhaps once he left here, he should just keep riding back to London. Thanks to Theo, he knew which fork to use, but that didn’t mean that he belonged here.
As his thoughts turned more and more inward, he was unable to keep up the stories and he fell silent, picking over the delicious meal with growing unease.
The ladies continued to chat about things he did not understand and people he didn’t know, and the need to escape grew stronger and stronger.
At last, the dishes were cleared away. As he was gathering his voice to say that he must leave, Lady Rebecca stood and met his gaze. “Would you please join me in the parlor? I’d like to talk to you alone.”
Chapter Three
Rebecca’s heart pounded furiously in her chest as she led Andrew to the parlor. He was acting so very strange, so unlike himself, and she knew that it was long past time to settle things between them.
Sabrina hadn’t looked pleased by the fact that she wished to speak to Andrew alone, but she knew her cousin would allow her this bit of privacy. They were engaged, after all.
Andrew sat stiffly on the edge of the loveseat. Flouting convention, she sat next to him, so close she could feel the heat of his big body. For long moments, they just stared at each other, and once again, she was struck by how very handsome he was. Why hadn’t she remembered this? Why hadn’t he made her heart race this way before? She could only guess that the war had really changed him.
She cleared her throat and decided to get straight to the heart of the matter. “Have you changed your mind about marrying me, Andrew?”
He caught his breath, and something odd flickered in his green eyes. Relief? She realized that he’d expected her to say something very different. She just wasn’t sure what it was that he had expected.
“I’ve not changed my mind,” he said cautiously, meeting her gaze directly. “Have you?”
She sighed, shaking her head. “You know I have no choice in the matter. This deal was struck between you and my father. I did hope that you’d make some attempt to get to know me though. And I expected that you’d correspond with me while you were away.”
“We were nearly strangers,” he said thoughtfully, but his tone drew her gaze because it seemed more a question than a statement. “When we were engaged, we barely knew each other at all.”
She remembered that he’d had a head injury, and her heart suddenly went out to him. Impulsively, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. It was incredibly forward of her, but he suddenly seemed so lost. She could almost forget that this was the boy who’d tormented her childhood and treated her with such disinterest once they’d grown. “Do you not remember?”
“No,” he said slowly, gently squeezing her hand in return. “I’m very sorry, my lady. When I try to think about the details of our engagement, it’s very foggy.”
She sighed. “Well, there isn’t much to remember. Once the marriage contracts were signed, you left. You didn’t even speak to me once your business with my father was done.”
He shook his head. “That was not well done of me. Not well done at all.”
She laughed bitterly. “No, it wasn’t. I cried for days.” As soon as the words left her lips, she gasped and covered her mouth. She couldn’t believe she had said that. She’d always minded her tongue where these matters were concerned, but perhaps she’d changed as well. Perhaps all these years spent abandoned and unwanted had made her less willing to endure his mistreatment in silence.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “But I need you to know that... I’m not the man I used to be. I hope you’ll give me a chance to make it up to you.”
The relief her words gave him was palpable. He closed his eyes briefly, then nodded. “I’d like that, too. More than you can imagine.”
For long moments they said nothing, just held each other’s hands as the grandfather clock ticked relentlessly in the corner. She realized that she’d never held a man’s hand before, and she was surprised at how very comforting she found it. For too long, she’d felt all alone.
She remembered what Madame Zeta had said about choosing to be happy. All these years, she’d thought her marriage to Andrew would be a nightmare, but was it really this easy? Could she get rid of all her preconceived notions about the boy who’d bullied her when they were children and concede to the point that the years might have changed him? Could they actually learn how to care for each other?
It would be a shame not to at least try. The worst that could happen would be to end up the way she’d expected to, alone in her marriage.
Andrew scrubbed his free hand over his eyes. “It’s been a very long day, my lady. I’ve traveled far this week, and my injuries are still bothering me some. Do you think it would be possible to continue this discussion in a day or two? Perhaps we could go for a ride around the countryside and just talk, get to know each other all over again.”
A genuine smile tugged her lips. She couldn’t imagine the old Andrew inviting her to do such a thing. “I’ll have Cook pack us lunch, and perhaps we can picnic at the standing stones in Avebury.”
His eyes sparked with sudden warmth. “Truly? I’d love to see them!”
She looked at him oddly. He acted as though he’d never seen the stones before, but that was impossible. He’d grown up here, and the great standing stones were only a few miles away.
Catching her look, he cleared his throat and dropped his gaze. “Again,” he said, an odd note in his voice. “I’d very much like to see them again.”
Perhaps his head injury had affected him more than she’d first thought. He’d seemed very confused and out of sorts all evening. “Get some rest,” she told him softly. “You’re right. We have plenty of time to get to know each other again.”
He stood, slowly releasing her hand. “Until tomorrow, then?”
She nodded. “Until tomorrow.”
CHRISTIAN RODE HARD for Trowbridge Manor, the events of the afternoon playing through his mind over and over. Lady Rebecca had been so lovely, so sweet. She’d obviously been hurt badly by Andrew. As they’d sat together in the parlor, he’d felt such a strong surge of attraction and a strange sort of guilt for his brother’s behavior. He’d wanted nothing in the world more than to make it up to her. He’d wanted to be the sort of man that she should have had all along.
Had he done a single thing right? It didn’t seem as though he had. Why had he invited her to a picnic? He should have waited until he’d spoken to Theo about the whole mess. He should have tried to see if there was a way to break the engagement, instead of getting himself even more deeply involved with the girl.
Unfortunately, he knew in his heart that there was no way to break the engagement without bringing even more trouble and attention down upon himself. The alternative though... to actually marry the girl under an assumed name, forced to forever pretend to be someone he was not...
He couldn’t do it. As soon as he returned home, he’d pack his bags and return to London. The money he’d made from selling Andrew’s commission was more than he needed to live a life that would be a step above anything he’d ever expected. Perhaps he’d simply book passage to America and try to make something of himself there. He might never have all that he’d have if he remained Viscount Trowbridge, but at least he could be himself. At least he’d have his own name.
As soon as he arrived at the manor, he went in search of Theo, finding him in the office, a stack of ledgers on the desk in front of him. He paused when he saw how content his uncle looked, how completely capable. For so many years, Theo had worked like a slave for the Bradfords. Now, at long last, he had the chance to give his uncle a better life. Could he really take that from him?
He sighed and entered the room. Perhaps he’d been too hasty in his earlier thoughts. He owed it to his uncle to at least tell him about this new wrinkle.
Theo looked up with a wide grin. “So, did the mistress give you a parting gift?”
Christian tossed the heavy purse he’d taken with him on the desk. “Lady Rebecca isn’t his mistress, Uncle. She is his fiancée.”
“Fiancée?” A look of panic replaced Theo’s smile. “What happened? What did you say? Tell me everything.”
Christian obliged, telling his uncle every single thing he could remember about his visit with the two ladies. When he was done, Theo leaned back in his chair, no longer seeming on edge. “What is the problem?”
Gaping at him, Christian sank into the chair on the other side of the desk. “You don’t see a problem with me marrying the girl who was engaged to Andrew? What if she finds me out?”
“How?” Theo asked. “You just told me that they didn’t know each other well. Hell, I worked for the man all his life, and I never even knew he had a fiancée. He was still bringing ‘round whores until the day he left for the Army.”
Christian scrubbed his hand over his face, feeling weary in body and soul. “How can I marry a woman and never tell her the truth? Never hear her call me by my actual name?”
Theo frowned. “Did you take on this role intending never to marry?”
A heavy feeling settled in the pit of Christian’s stomach. “I suppose I never thought that far ahead.”
“Well, you had better start thinking of it,” Theo snapped. “If you intend to remain Viscount Trowbridge, you have to actually become Andrew. You buried Christian Barnes on that battlefield, boy. How important is a name anyway? If life was fair, you’d have had the last name Bradford all along.”
Theo stood up and went to the sideboard, where a bottle of whiskey sat. As Christian watched him pour them both a stiff shot, he knew the older man was right. If he were to continue this charade, he had to leave his old name behind. It shouldn’t matter. The title and fortune should be worth it.
His uncle handed him the drink and squeezed his shoulder. “It’s a lot to think about. I know your meeting with Lady Rebecca rattled you. Why don’t you go take a walk or read a book? Clear your head. Give me some time to find out more. I’ll discretely ask around about the girl, and I’ll try and find the marriage contract. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
Christian nodded wearily. “All right,” he agreed. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
TWO DAYS LATER, REBECCA received a note from Andrew on her breakfast tray, saying that he’d be there to pick her up for their picnic at ten. She smiled a bit when she read it, thinking of the day to come, but then she frowned, staring at the small, neat handwriting.
A strange feeling washed over her as she stood up and went to the small desk in her bedchamber where she kept the letters that he’d written her while he was away with the Army. She unfolded the first one, her gaze glancing across the big, sloppy, looping letters. Anxiety grew as she fumbled to unfold the others. A moment later, she had all four letters spread out in front of her.
The three he’d written her while he was away bore no resemblance to the one he’d sent her today.
What did this mean?
She sat back in her chair, staring up at the coffered ceiling, thinking of how different he’d seemed at dinner the other night. He’d left her a spoiled, foppish boy, and he’d returned a serious, sensitive man. She found the new Andrew far more agreeable than the old one.
Her gaze fell upon the talisman Madame Zeta had given her, which she’d placed on the desk when she’d gotten home from the fair. The twins... Was he even the same man?
The thought seemed ridiculous, but it spun through her mind, refu
sing to go away. For a moment, she entertained the idea, but then she laughed and hurriedly folded the letters back up again and put them away.
If he wasn’t Andrew, then who could he possibly be? He looked just like Andrew. She’d thought him more handsome, but that undoubtedly lay in the fact that he’d grown and matured, not in any difference in his features.
Shaking her head, she rang for her maid and then went to her wardrobe, looking through her dresses. All of her gowns were at least two years old. Her father hadn’t seen any reason to pay for new ones when she wouldn’t be going to London, wouldn’t have a Season. What she had was fine for the occasional social calls in Wiltshire, but Andrew had always been such a dandy, and she worried he’d judge her for her lack of style.
He hadn’t seemed overly concerned about such matters the most recent time she’d seen him though... He’d been dressed more like a well-heeled parson than a rake.
Biting her lip, she pulled down a lavender dress with cap sleeves and lace trim. Everyone had always told her that it looked good with her coloring. She found that she wanted to look nice for Andrew.
As her maid helped her into the dress and then started on her hair, Rebecca stared into the mirror of her vanity and told herself that she was simply tilting at windmills. Perhaps the head injury he’d gotten in battle had somehow affected his handwriting. Perhaps he’d had a servant write the letter. She didn’t know why she was looking for problems where perhaps none existed.
For so long, she’d expected nothing at all from her marriage to Andrew, but now, after just one short conversation, she felt a bit of hope, and maybe that was what scared her and had her looking for reasons to doubt him. She thought she could take anything but false hope.
She lifted her chin and promised herself to simply be open to whatever the day would bring. There were definitely worse things in the world than to actually enjoy spending time with her fiancé.
