by Ava Stone
Callie stepped inside the vicarage with Braden right behind her. As soon as the door closed behind them, she gestured to the handsome gentleman and said, “Lila Southward, this is the Marquess of Bradenham.”
“Lord Quentin’s brother.” Lila grinned up at Braden. “How nice to meet you.”
“Apparently, there’s some rock I should be apologizing for.” He frowned just a bit. “I haven’t heard the whole story, Miss Southward. I’m afraid to even ask the circumstances.”
Lila shook her head. “It’s of no consequence, Lord Bradenham. Truly, I’m fine. There’s no need for worry.” Then she pointed in the direction of the front sitting room. “Anna is off with her sketch book somewhere, and Papa and Tilly have gone to visit Mrs. Sewell, so we have the whole place to ourselves.”
“Mrs. Sewell isn’t feeling well again?” Callie asked, following her friend into the sitting room. The old baker’s widow had been quite ill, on and off of late.
Lila glanced over her shoulder, her brow lifted in amusement. “I am quite certain the woman’s ailments are designed specifically to lure Papa into visiting her.”
“Lila!” Callie laughed. “What a thing to say.”
Her friend shrugged. “Daphne says the woman’s in perfectly fine health, that Doctor Alcott can’t find a thing wrong with her. So I am convinced she feigns one illness or another every other week just to get Papa’s attention.” She dropped into a chintz chair near the hearth. “Though why she wants Papa’s attention is a complete mystery to me. Instead of dying, she might be better off bound for Bedlam.”
Callie laughed as she settled onto an old settee across from her friend, and Braden assumed the spot beside her. “He is a handsome man,” she said because the vicar was handsome, even if his personality did not quite match his outward appearance.
The expression Lila shot her said better than words could that a man’s outward appearance meant very little in the grand scheme of things. “Anyway, Lord Bradenham,” she began, clearly changing the subject, “it is nice to meet you. Your masquerade sounds like quite the event, at least the way your brother described it.”
“Does that mean you plan to attend, Miss Southward? I can’t get Callie to agree, but—”
Lila laughed as she shook her head. “Papa would never allow that. My sister, my cousin and I will be tucked into bed long before your revelry begins, after we’ve heard a long lecture about avoiding the appearance of evil; but I do hope I can persuade you or Lord Quentin to tell me all about it the next day.”
“I’m certain that can be arranged,” he promised, sitting a bit forward on the settee and very subtly brushing his knee against Callie’s. His action was so slight, she was certain Lila couldn’t possibly have even noticed.
Warmth instantly flooded Callie, and she cast Braden a sidelong glance only to find a rather self-satisfied expression on his handsome face as though he knew exactly how his presence affected her. Heavens, she was in serious danger of melting right in the middle of Vicar Southward’s sitting room. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought her day would take such a surprising turn. Who would have ever imagined she’d meet a gentleman like him in Ravenglass of all places? It wasn’t everyday, after all, that charming, eligible marquesses stumbled into this corner of Cumberland.
Braden was devastatingly handsome, he seemed noble to a fault, and Callie had never met a man who could make her heart flutter in her chest. Though their acquaintance had been brief, part of her felt like she’d known him forever. He’d been so sincere in telling her the story of his family, which she’d found more than endearing and only made her wanted to know more. In fact, she wanted to know everything about him, about Highfield, about his likes and dislikes, which entertainments he preferred, his hopes, his dreams. Everything.
“Callie?” Lila’s voice interrupted her musings.
“Oh!” Callie sat a little taller. “I am sorry. I was woolgathering.”
“I can tell,” her friend laughed, making Callie think that perhaps Lila could see more than she’d first thought. But even that realization did nothing to douse Callie’s fire. In that instant, she doubted anything could.
“So did you learn more about your blonde?” Wolf asked as Braden stepped into the great room that evening.
Braden didn’t even try to hide his smile from his friend. “Would you think I was mad if I told you I’m going to marry that girl?”
“Marry her?” Wolf’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Didn’t you just meet her?”
Yes, but… “In so many ways I feel as though I’ve always known her.” Braden started towards a sideboard of decanters in the far corner. “Whisky?” he asked, retrieving a pair of crystal glasses from the cabinet.
“To toast your impending nuptials?” Wolf leaned back in one of the high-back chairs near the stone hearth.
“Impending?” Braden shook his head. “I haven’t even asked her brother if I can court her yet.”
“But you’re sure you’re going to marry her?” Wolf frowned in Braden’s general direction.
“Never been more sure of anything in my life.” He poured a healthy amount of whisky into the two glasses. Then he strode across the room and handed one to his friend.
An expression Braden couldn’t quite read settled upon Wolf’s face. “You’re not concerned about things moving so quickly?”
Braden shook his head once more as he settled into a chair opposite his friend. “I think once you meet the right woman, you just…know. At least that’s how my father once explained it to me.” Unfortunately, his father was already married to Braden’s mother by the time he met his true love. And though Braden had never particularly cared for his step-mother, she’d always had the power to brighten his father’s mood, to soothe him like no one else could.
Braden had always known true love existed. He’d seen it with his own eyes, the way his father had transformed after he married a second time. And that knowledge had made Braden bound and determined to never marry until he met the lady who was his one and only. He owed it to himself, to her, and to any children who would eventually come his way. And he was more than determined to learn from his father’s past mistakes.
“And you…just know?” Wolf asked, seeming quite curious about Braden’s answer. “You’re certain?”
As strange as it was to believe, Braden nodded. “I am. Honestly, Wolf, I think I knew it this morning when I first spotted her in the gardens out there. I don’t know how to explain it. I just knew.”
“And it’s love, not lust?” his friend asked, cradling his whisky in his hands.
A laugh escaped Braden. “There’s a fair amount of lust too,” he admitted. There was no reason to hide the fact. He was a red-blooded man and Callie Eilbeck was bloody gorgeous, like a vision sent from heaven. Touching his knee to hers on the settee at the vicarage had been the highlight of his day. “But it’s more than that.”
His friend lifted his glass high. “In that case, let me offer my congratulations.”
Braden lifted his own glass as well. “How about wishing me good luck instead? Her brother doesn’t seem to be the easiest fellow to deal with.”
“Good luck, then,” Wolf said before taking a swallow of his drink.
Heavens! Callie bustled from parlor to parlor at Braewood, wondering which – the green or the yellow – would be more suitable to host Braden. The green was a bit brighter, with its large windows that faced south; but the yellow had the new brocade settee and had a more elegant feel to it. He’d seemed so very elegant. Handsome, refined, noble, so unlike any man she’d ever met before. The mere thought of him made her heart beat a little faster.
But Braewood has you, Miss Eilbeck. Everything in Marisdùn’s gardens pale next to you.
Callie sighed at the memory of the words he’d said to her in the garden yesterday. At the time, she’d been in serious danger of floating right up to the clouds.
And then…That particular girl is my favorite thing in all of Ravenglass.
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And he was most definitely her favorite thing in town. In fact, she was fairly certain he was her most favorite thing in all the world. But she’d only just met him. Did falling in love truly take so little time?
She walked back into the yellow parlor, studying it once more with a more critical eye than she ever had before. If only it was a bit warmer. She crossed back towards the green parlor when Cyrus called from his study at the end of the corridor, “Stop fretting.”
Easy for him to say. Braden wasn’t coming to Braewood to have tea with Cyrus. Of course, if Lila was coming to Braewood, her brother would fall all over himself trying to make certain everything was perfectly in its place.
Callie stopped in the middle of the corridor. Heavens! She wasn’t just as bad as Cyrus, was she? “Just be glad I promised not to tell Lila what you said about her yesterday,” she called to her brother. Her friend would die on the spot if she knew Cyrus had told Braden and Lord Quentin that Lila was his intended.
Her brother had nothing to say to that which was perfectly fine with Callie. She stepped into the green parlor. If only it was a bit more elegant. Something closer to what his home in Buckinghamshire must be like. Highfield, he’d said, and she’d wondered about the place ever since he mentioned it. But he was here now. At Marisdùn.
Would Braden truly stay in Ravenglass beyond his masquerade? Or return to Highfield and his sisters? Oh, she hoped he’d stay a bit longer. But…
When he did inevitably leave, would her heart ever survive it? That was most definitely a lowering thought; one she wished had never popped to mind. But before she could fret further on it, their butler appeared on the threshold.
“The Marquess of Bradenham is here, Miss Callie,” Muckle said.
She nodded quickly, not certain she could even find her voice to respond all of a sudden.
“Perfect,” Cyrus said from behind the butler. “Do show him to the yellow parlor, Muckle.”
The yellow was better. It was, after all, the nicer parlor. Thank heavens her brother wasn’t as anxious as she was. Callie smiled a thanks to him.
“Go on,” Cyrus said softly as soon as Muckle departed for the corridor. “Find the perfect place to sit, and I’ll join the two of you in a moment.”
She pushed up to her toes, pressed a quick kiss to her brother’s cheek, and then scampered across the corridor to the yellow parlor. She settled on the new brocade settee just as Muckle announced Braden from the threshold.
Callie’s gaze shot to the doorway to find Braden, as handsome and regal as he’d been the day before, standing there. Even from across the room, his warm hazel eyes heated her as well as the hottest fire in a hearth ever had.
“Thank you, Muckle,” Callie said, rising from her spot, grateful her voice sounded as it should. “Some tea and scones, too, please…And the rum butter,” she tossed in.
“Of course, Miss,” the butler said as he quit the room.
Callie turned her smile on Braden and started towards him. “I’m so glad you’ve come.”
“Well, you did say the girl who lived here would be happy to entertain me,” he said, his deep voice washing over her like the softest caress.
It was all Callie could do not to sigh right then and there.
She reached her arm out to him, and when he squeezed her hand in his, she thought she might expire on the spot. Awareness coursed through her and she could only stare up at him. Heavens! She might just have met Braden, but there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she loved him most ardently. What she wouldn’t do to have that warm gaze on her everyday.
“I hope I’m not too early,” he said.
Callie shook her head. “You’re perfect…er…perfectly on time.”
“Perfectly?” His brow lifted in amusement. “For a moment I thought you were going to give me a most wonderful compliment.”
Which she hadn’t meant to say, at least not so soon. “Are you perfect, Lord Bradenham?” She suspected he was in every way, but she had to say something.
“Lord Bradenham?” His hazel eyes twinkled as though he knew just how completely he affected her. “And I thought we were friends, Callie.”
Friends. She wanted to be much more than his friend. She wanted to drown in those warm eyes of his. She wanted his arms around her. She wanted to never have to let him go. But she doubted Cyrus would approve of any of that.
She directed him towards the new settee, her hand still clasped in his. “My brother,” she started to explain.
“Can’t be worse than mine,” he teased, settling in beside her.
Except that Lord Quentin didn’t seem proper at all and would hardly care how familiar Braden and Callie were with each other. Cyrus most definitely would. “It’s just…”
“Ah, Bradenham,” Cyrus said from the threshold. “Good of you to come. I’m hoping that all of you London swells have been on your best behavior since yesterday.”
And with that, Callie wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Must her brother start out the conversation in all his blustering glory? “Cyrus,” she complained.
But Braden, who was still holding her hand and didn’t seem inclined to let it go, replied, “Honestly, Eilbeck, I’ve been so distracted by your sister, I haven’t paid the lot of them one bit of attention. If they’ve caused some sort of a ruckus, it hasn’t been brought to my attention.”
Cyrus’s gaze then dropped to Braden and Callie’s clasped hands. “And what about you, Bradenham? Have you been on your best behavior?”
Braden squeezed her fingers, a show of support that sent warmth skittering about Callie’s belly. “On my honor.”
“I’m afraid your honor doesn’t precede you.” Her brother crossed the floor and then dropped into a chair across from the two of them. “I know next to nothing about you other than the fact that you’re the new owner of Marisdùn and that you can’t seem to release my sister’s hand.”
Braden agreed with a nod of his head. “What would you like to know, Eilbeck? What can I tell you that would relieve your concerns and help you give me your blessing in courting Callie?”
Callie’s mouth fell slightly open. Had he really just said those words? Out loud? To Cyrus?
Her brother frowned slightly. “You mean to court my sister?”
A charming smile spread across Braden’s lips. “I mean to marry your sister, but I thought courting her should come first.”
Heavens! She was so light-headed she might very well faint. Had he just said he wanted to marry her?
“That is, of course,” he amended, glancing at Callie, “if you’re amendable to the idea.” His warm hazel gaze heated her from the inside out.
She must be dreaming. Only in a dream would the most dashing man she’d ever met say such things. If she wasn’t dreaming, however, she really should answer him. All she was able to do, however, was nod rather fervently.
“Now just one second.” Cyrus puffed out his chest. “I still don’t know the first thing about you, Bradenham. You can’t truly expect me to agree to this match under such circumstances.”
Blast her brother. He was going to ruin everything. “Cyrus!” she begged.
Braden squeezed her hand once more, however, putting her fears to rest. “It’s all right, Callie. If I was in his spot, I’d be asking the same questions.”
Though she imagined he wouldn’t ask them so accusingly. What was the matter with her brother?
Braden turned his attention to Cyrus and said, “I expect I will be in your spot, three times over, Eilbeck. And if you care for Callie as much as I do my sisters, then I want to put your mind at ease. How shall I best accomplish that?”
It seemed as though his words took a bit of the wind out of Cyrus’s sails, and he slumped back against his chair. “You have sisters of your own?”
Braden smiled. “Three of the most silly, most stubborn creatures ever put on this planet. And I love them dearly.”
“And what would you say if some fellow you never met showed up
at your home, wanting to marry one of them?”
“I would hope,” Callie interrupted, “he’d take his sister’s wishes under consideration.”
“I am the 7th Marquess of Bradenham,” Braden returned calmly. “My funds are in order, as are my estates and holdings. The same as my father and grandfather kept them before me. A sizable allowance from the marquessate goes to my brother; and I have a step-mother and three sisters I’m responsible for.” He cast Callie a sidelong glance before returning his gaze to her brother. “I have never asked to court any lady until today. I never had the desire to do so. Honestly, I never really gave love at first sight any thought at all before, but I am now a firm believer, Eilbeck.”
Callie’s breath caught in her throat. Did he love her like she was certain she loved him? Was that possible?
“You love her?” Cyrus asked, skepticism lacing his voice.
Braden took a steadying breath. “Something clicked in my heart when I first saw her. And every moment I’ve spent with her since has only made me more than certain.” He nodded. “Quick as it may seem, I am quite in love with your sister. And I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with her.”
Callie released the breath she was holding. “Oh, Braden,” she sighed, her heart expanding in her chest.
“And then what?” Cyrus asked, sounding more than concerned. “Are you taking up residence at Marisdùn, then?”
Oh, Callie hoped not. It was one thing to stroll the castle’s gardens, quite another to live in the place, teeming with ghosts and who knew what else.
Braden shook his head. “I’ve only come to see the property my great-uncle left me. I—”
“And throw some outlandish masquerade while you’re here.” Cyrus sneered. “Bring a group of rowdy Londoners with you to our quiet town and toss Ravenglass on its side in the process.”
“That was certainly not my intent.” Braden sat a little taller on the settee. “And I’m certain my brother and my friends haven’t caused any sort of fracas since that first night.”
Muckle, carrying the silver tea service and a plate of scones, cleared his throat from the threshold.
