by Meara Platt
Uncle Winslow had insisted she visit Madame de Bressard’s modiste shop, for the woman was much sought after for her designs, and the gown she’d designed for Faith in a matter of two days proved to be spectacular.
The fabric was an exquisite blend of silk and velvet that looked like golden firelight if turned one way, but had hints of teal visible if turned another way. It fit her to perfection and she only hoped Caleb would arrive in time to see her wearing it this evening.
However, there was no sign of Caleb by the time Lady Grayfell called for her carriage to be brought around to take them to the musicale. Faith climbed in along with her uncle and Lady Grayfell, still hopeful that he might join them later, for the evening was just starting.
The tadpoles rode over on their own.
Neither Tynan, Marcus, nor James were expected to attend. She supposed four Brayden gladiators were enough.
What she hadn’t expected was to encounter Richard Hawley. But there he was, holding court in the entry hall, surrounded by his elegant friends. There was no avoiding him. These friends looked down their noses at her and were quick to follow Richard’s example in giving her the cut direct.
Not that she cared a whit, for she wanted nothing more to do with this man. She had hurt him, to be sure. She was truly sorry for that. But his behavior had been beyond the pale, planting a stolen gem in Caleb’s travel pouch, attempting to strike Caleb. Cursing their marriage.
A slight chill ran through her.
She’d assumed she and Richard were through, but what if he wasn’t done being angry? She scanned the crowd in hope of finding the Marquis of Crichton. But when she mentioned his name to their hostess, the woman shook her head. “No, my dear. He won’t be in attendance.”
Too bad.
She and Lady Grayfell strolled to the music room, where an Italian opera singer was loosening up her voice with silly vocal exercises that consisted of squeaks and honks. The woman was going to regale them with arias from operas currently all the rage on the Continent. “Goodness, what a ghastly sound,” Lady Grayfell remarked. “But I hear she’s quite remarkable. She’s to sing compositions from Mozart and one from a young composer by the name of Rossini.”
Faith smiled and tried to feel eager about the evening, but it was hard to do without Caleb present. “I’m looking forward to it.”
The tadpoles intended to join them once the performance started, but in the meanwhile, they’d gone to the card room to meet up with friends and grab a drink to fortify them for what they termed “the dull music” to come.
Then Lady Grayfell left her side a moment to greet some friends and her uncle did the same when he ran into old school chums. “Beanie, you old fox. You haven’t changed a bit!” one of them cried and dragged him off to meet the others.
Beanie?
She couldn’t imagine why Uncle Winslow would ever be called that. She’d ask him later, perhaps tease him about it. Gently, of course. She loved him too much to ever be hurtful.
Finding herself suddenly alone, Faith sat down in one of the chairs set out for Lady Milton’s guests and began to peruse the program they’d each been handed upon entering her home.
“I see he’s abandoned you already, Faith.”
She sighed and set down her program. “Ah, Lord Hawley. If you mean to say that my husband is delayed because he’s attending to important business on behalf of Lord Castlereagh, yes, that is true.”
“These Braydens protect their own. He may be working for Castlereagh, but he’s also taken up with Lady Fielding’s widowed daughter, Gemma. The old goat she married cocked up his toes last year and left her a wealthy woman. Those nights your husband didn’t return to Lady Grayfell’s townhouse were spent with Lady Gemma at his club. I doubt his family told you. But all of London knows. He’s been staying on Bedford Place, not for Castlereagh’s convenience but for his own convenience in meeting his paramour.”
“Enough, Lord Hawley. There is nothing you can say to make me doubt him. Go away.” Lord, she detested this man.
“As you wish. I only meant to give you the friendly warning. But you will see for yourself. Lady Gemma will run to him as soon as he arrives. Then you’ll know I’ve spoken the truth.” He cast her a wistful smile. “He doesn’t deserve you, Faith. He’s lied to you and already broken his vows.”
He walked away.
Faith wanted to toss one of the chairs at him. Odious man! But he’d left her shaken. She didn’t believe a word of his malicious statements, but she missed Caleb terribly. What if his long absences from home proved too much for him? He said he’d be faithful, but would he? What if circumstances turned him into a man like General Larkin, one who hadn’t seen his children in years, who couldn’t remember what his wife looked like, and who suffered so badly from melancholia that he no longer saw the joy in his life or his loved ones?
She glanced at Lady Grayfell, who was laughing and merrily chatting with friends.
Unwilling to disturb her, Faith rose and walked into the main hall to look for her uncle. She spotted him seated in a corner with several elderly men, having drinks and obviously having a grand time reminiscing about their school days.
The tadpoles, having grabbed their drinks, were now off somewhere probably scouting this year’s crop of debutantes.
She walked onto the terrace for some air.
Two ladies strolled onto the terrace shortly afterward and moved to the other end in order to gossip. At least, she assumed they were gossiping, for they had snide looks on their faces and were whispering and laughing. They were pretty women, or would have been considered so had their expressions not been sour.
Their whispers carried on the wind toward her. “She’s the wife, Gemma. Didn’t you know? He married her about a fortnight ago. What will you do?”
The woman called Gemma shrugged. “He’ll come back to me once she’s gone. Perhaps he’ll sneak a quick visit in while she’s here. It’ll be easy enough for him to claim Castlereagh had him work late.”
The other woman laughed. “Go over and introduce yourself. She doesn’t know who you are. Invite her to tea. Won’t that be a lark?”
Faith walked back inside and began to make her way through the crowd, uncertain where she was going, only that she had to get away from Richard and these odious women he’d obviously put up to maligning Caleb.
She didn’t believe a word of their gossip.
She would never believe it.
The guests all suddenly turned toward the entry and a buzz of excitement tore through the crowd. She heard whispers. Castlereagh had just arrived. The Duke of Wellington as well. Striding in beside these two English lions was Caleb.
Caleb!
She started toward him only to be bumped aside by Lady Gemma, who rushed ahead of her to greet him. Her friend held Faith back. “He doesn’t want you. You’re an embarrassment to him.”
She poked the woman in the nose. Oh, heavens. Now she truly was an embarrassment to Caleb. At least a dozen guests had seen her raise her fist and plant the woman a facer. Stunned, the woman took two steps back and let out a cry as her nose began to bleed.
Faith walked off.
Her hand hurt. Drat, she’d probably broken it.
Richard was staring at her, sneering.
Of course, this was more of his mischief. Had she broken his heart so badly that he felt the need to break hers too? She was beginning to realize the man had no heart. All he had was his own petulance and indulgent pride. He was nothing but an arrogant bag of stale air.
And not very clever.
His scheme involving Lady Gemma was idiotic.
She ignored him and walked toward Caleb.
Lady Gemma was there with her arms thrown around him. Caleb looked utterly bemused. “Excuse me, madame. I believe you have me confused with someone else.”
“She knows, Caleb. It’s no use keeping up the pretense.”
Caleb caught sight of Faith coming toward him. He smiled at her and cast Lady Gemma aside as deli
cately as possible. “Faith! Lord, I missed you. What the hell was that about? Who is that dotty woman?”
“One of Richard’s friends. No doubt she was paid to cause trouble between us.”
Caleb’s expression darkened. “Bastard. Where is he?”
Faith meant to stop him, but Caleb caught sight of her former beau and had him by the scruff of his neck before he had the chance to run off. “I warned you, Hawley.”
“Help! Help!” the coward began to scream as Caleb hauled him through the crowd toward the terrace.
No one came to Richard’s assistance. Perhaps it was the solid wall of Braydens suddenly formed between Caleb and Hawley on the one part and Lady Milton’s guests on the other.
Faith squeezed between them and rushed to Caleb’s side. “Don’t kill him. He isn’t worth having you tossed in prison for life.”
“I’m not going to kill him. I’m going to break his jaw so he won’t be able to spread another malicious lie about you. Then I’m going to break his hands so he won’t be able to touch you ever again. Then–”
Richard broke free of Caleb’s grasp and jumped over the balustrade, landing atop Lady Milton’s roses. He yelped as he tore the thorns off himself and then ran off toward the garden’s rear gate into the distant mews.
“You weren’t really going to do all those nasty things to him, were you? Faith asked.
“Yes, I was. And he knows it. But I purposely let him go this time.” He turned to her and cast her a mirthless smile. “I dreamed our reunion would be tender and romantic. Sorry, my love.” He reached to take her hand.
She winced. “You’d better not. I think I broke it.”
“How? Good lord, it does look swollen. Did the bastard hurt you? I will kill him for this.”
“No! That woman who threw her arms around you had a friend who tried to hold me back from greeting you.” Faith sighed. “I punched her in the nose. Caleb, I’m so sorry. I’ve humiliated you and your entire family.”
Caleb laughed as he nudged the tadpoles, who remained an impenetrable barrier between them and the other guests. “Are you embarrassed?”
Romulus grinned. “Are you jesting? This is the most fun we’ve had in an age. Lady Milton will agree. She detests Lady Gemma, but one must be polite in Society so she had to invite her. Same for her toady friend. Lady Milton has been wanting to poke her in the nose all Season long. She’s probably cheering that you had the spine to do it.”
“Our mother,” Ronan said, winking at Faith, “was worried you were too delicate for our family. You’re a little thing, but you’ve got the Brayden fight in you.”
Finn and Joshua nodded in agreement.
“Can we dismantle our wall now?” Joshua asked. “I promised to escort Lady Philidya into the music room. I don’t want Reginald Fleeting cutting in.”
Caleb shook his head. “Give me a moment to kiss my wife properly without a roomful of prying eyes.”
Faith melted under the force of Caleb’s gaze. Steamy. Smoldering. “Faith, I want you to be the first to know that I’ve been reassigned to Newcastle.”
“You have?” Her heart began to pound with joy. “What about General Larkin?”
He shook his head. “Going to Vienna with Lord Castlereagh. Apparently, he had reason to be concerned about his family’s reception. They don’t want anything to do with him. Castlereagh meant well, but it proved a disaster. The assignments have been switched. Looks like you’ll be stuck with me at least for the next year. We’ll work out the details. Scarborough isn’t too far from Newcastle.”
He drew her into his arms and in the next moment, his lips descended on hers in a kiss that was ravenous and filled with tender longing. “I love you, Faith. You look beautiful. I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you so much.”
She hugged him fiercely. “I love you, too. I’m so glad you still love me.”
He laughed incredulously. “Always. Forever. No one else but you. Thank goodness you saw through that bit of malicious nonsense.”
The wall of Braydens disappeared somewhere between their first kiss and their second, but Faith wasn’t concerned and had no intention of pulling away from this man she loved. She had already caused a scene, so the sight of her kissing her husband with abandon on Lady Milton’s terrace was merely adding one more log onto the already blazing fire.
As they drew apart, Lady Milton and her guests began to surround them, tossing questions at them in a barrage of verbal cannon fire. Caleb had no choice but to give up the thought of kissing her again. He needed to appease the curiosity of Lady Milton and her guests. “Yes, we married almost a fortnight ago. How did I meet her? I saw her at the Scarborough Fair. Yes, it was love at first sight for the both of us. How did we know?”
He winked at Faith. “A fortune teller told us.”
THE END
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Caleb Brayden and his Faith in Fortune’s Dragon! Please leave a review so I can read what you thought. Reviews help authors so much, and I appreciate every one! Please do read on for a sneak peek at more big, brawny Braydens and the women who conquer their hearts. Meet battle scarred James Brayden and his impertinent, no nonsense Sophie in A Match Made In Duty and Tynan Brayden and his Abigail in Earl of Westcliff. Tynan is a Wicked Earl in search of meaning in his life. Abigail gives him a big dose of it along with her love. And don’t miss the next story in the Fortunes of Fate connected series, Amanda Mariel’s, A Wallflower’s Folly. See all the books in the Fortunes of Fate connected series, here. Want to know about all of my new releases, sales, and more? Follow me on BookBub! Subscribe to my newsletter and claim your free copy of If You Kissed Me, a Farthingale novella.
READ ON FOR THESE THREE SNEAK PEEKS:
A Wallflower’s Folly
Earl of Westcliff
A Match Made In Duty
SNEAK PEEK AT A WALLFLOWER’S FOLLY:
CHAPTER ONE
Yorkshire England, 1810
LADY OLIVIA MONTAGUE strolled across the parlor, her slippers threatening to wear through the carpet from her constant pacing. She could scarcely believe what was happening. Why now? Why after all this time? For Heaven’s sake, it had been more than fifteen years since they’d last heard from the duke.
What the devil changed his mind? She turned her attention toward her friends, Lady Emma and Lady Juliet. “I have to find a way out of this farce and you ladies are going to help me.”
“I fail to see what the problem is,” Emma said from where she sat near the hearth, her violet eyes cool and calm.
Juliet sprang to her feet, pale blond curls bouncing with the movement. “I understand perfectly, but perhaps if you tried to see the situation in a more positive light.”
Olivia turned to peer at her well-meaning friends. Lady Emma Finch and Lady Juliet Gale were both Earl’s daughters and longtime friends. The three of them had been nearly inseparable throughout the years. Truly, they were more like sisters than anything else. And while Olivia knew the pair meant well, she could not help being cross with them at the moment. “You do not need to understand and there is nothing positive about this…this…atrocity.”
“Now that is a fine way to describe your pending marriage.” Emma shook her head, her lips pressed together tightly in reprimand.
Juliet sighed, her shoulder’s rounding a fraction before she perked back up. “What if you were to fall in love with him? That would be a positive outcome.”
“I’m not going to fall in love with anyone, least of all him.” Exasperated, Olivia released a breath and returned to pacing. “I’m not going to marry him.”
The thud of Emma’s fan against the arm of the gold brocade wingchair she sat in drew Olivia’s attention back to her. “You cannot be serious. There’s a betrothal agreement. You’re legally bound. You’d face ruination if you refused.”
“And besides, he’s a duke.” Juliet smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. “Every woman dreams of being a duchess.”
“I don’t give a
fig what he is, and I don’t want to be a duchess.” Olivia dropped onto a nearby settee. “All I want is a way out of this. Hells teeth, I don’t know the first thing about the man. I don’t even know what he looks like, and I’m expected to marry him.” She brought her hand to her forehead and began massaging her temples.
Juliet leaned forward, a scowl etching lines around her mouth. “Now you are being unfair. He’s not a complete stranger. You have met him before. You told us as much.”
Olivia dropped her hand to her lap and peered at Juliet. “As I recall, I told you how much I detested him. He was rude, obnoxious, messy, entitled—”
“He was young, a child just like yourself,” Emma interrupted, one side of her lips tilting up in the semblance of a smirk. “Truly, Olivia, you should at least give him a chance.”
Juliet’s expression took on a dreamy quality, all serenity and joy as she stared at Olivia. “What if he’s grown into a handsome man with exemplary behavior? What if he arrives and sweeps you right off your feet?”
“I assure you, that is not going to happen,” Olivia said, her tone portraying a confidence she scarcely felt.
Emma folded her hands together, almost as though she were praying. “But it could. If only you’d give him a chance.”
Juliet smiled at Emma before retiring her attention to Olivia. “She’s right, and you know it. A lot can change with the passage of years. How long has it been? Ten, Twelve years?”
“Fifteen,” Olivia forced the word through clenched teeth.
Emma pushed a stray lock of raven-colored hair from her cheek. “The boy you remember has long since grown into a man. I’d wager he has changed a great deal.”
“None of this matters. It’s all beside the point. Even if he were handsome and well-mannered, I have no wish to marry a stranger. It has been so long since my family received any communication from his that I’d come to believe myself free. You both know that I do not wish to marry anyone…ever.” She released a deep sigh, “Now I am once more enslaved. I cannot bear it. I will not. You have to help me.”
