by Ava Stone
The old man nodded, though he said nothing for the longest while. It seemed almost as though he was lost in the past somewhere, and that was a sensation Greg was intimately familiar with.
Finally, Aylesford took a deep breath then sat up a little straighter in his seat. “She doesn’t much care for the country, Avery,” he finally said. “I’m a bit concerned about you preferring that life to this one.”
Of course she preferred London. Everyone, it seemed, preferred London except for him. “We could split our time, sir, if that’s your main objection. I have my duties to the barony, but I truly do want for her to be happy too.”
The marquess heaved a sigh. “She’s a sensitive girl. Shy most of the time. But you seem to have broken through that obstacle. And she did seem enamored of you just now. “ A sad smile settled across his face. “While I’ll miss her dreadfully, I will give you my blessing. Congratulations, Avery.”
“Thank you, sir.” Greg released a sigh of relief, which was odd. He wasn’t truly going to marry the girl. That her father had accepted his suit shouldn’t bring him relief at all. This whole thing was, after all, just a ruse.
“I’ll have a marriage contract drawn up. Would tomorrow afternoon be convenient to look it over?”
A lump of guilt lodged in Greg’s throat. “I will avail myself to your schedule.”
A smile of relief settled on the marquess’s face.
“If it is all right with you,” Greg continued, “I would like to make the announcement tonight at the Kelfield ball. The duchess is an old friend of the family.”
“Kelfield?” Aylesford frowned and looked at once as though he was reconsidering the blessing he’d just given Greg.
Blast Olivia’s scandalous husband. Greg shook his head. “If you’d rather a different venue, sir, I am happy to change my plans. My sister will have my head, but…”
“Your sister?”
Greg shrugged. “The duchess is her dearest friend, they have been inseparable since they were in leading strings. Cordelia, my sister, is forever championing one cause or another, and she is quite determined to restore Kelfield’s name to good standing in order to help her friend be accepted once more into society.”
At hearing that, the marquess’s frown disappeared. “The countess sounds like a remarkable woman.”
“She is that, sir,” Greg agreed. “There are men less courageous and determined than my sister, I can assure you.”
“In that case, I’d be a fool to stand against her.” Aylesford chuckled. “If you would like to make your announcement at the Kelfields’, you won’t hear an objection from me.”
“Thank you, sir, that is much appreciated.”
“Any man who cares so much for his sister’s wishes will, I’m certain, take excellent care of my Bella.”
Guilt for their deception speared Greg once more, but he smiled in response and nodded in return as it was expected. “I believe she is keeping Bella company at this moment, if you would like to meet her.”
The marquess nodded slightly. “I think I would like that quite a bit, Avery.”
As the two of them returned to the blue parlor, laughter drifted down the corridor. The sound brought a smile to Greg’s lips. It was a relief to hear his sister laugh these days, and it alleviated a bit of the guilt he had about misleading Lord Aylesford. After all, Greg was being noble, in a backward sort of way. He was helping restore his sister to her usual self and he was helping Bella avoid a marriage she didn’t want. He was being noble, even if Aylesford wouldn’t agree with that estimation in the end.
Upon their entrance into the blue parlor, they found Bella and Cordie, sitting together on the settee laughing, as though they were the closest of confidantes. The two ladies stopped laughing when they realized Greg and Lord Aylesford had invaded their space.
Bella met Greg’s eyes in an instant, and his heart squeezed a bit. There were worse girls one could have as a pretend fiancée. In fact, he doubted there was anyone he’d rather engage in such a ploy with. She seemed so genuine, so kind, and…her beauty truly did take his breath away.
She shifted her gaze to her father’s. “Papa?” she asked tentatively.
Aylesford nodded. “I have given your Lord Avery my blessing, Bella.”
“Oh, Papa! Thank you!” She beamed as she pushed to her feet, raced across the floor and threw her arms around her father’s middle. “Thank you, thank you so much.”
The marquess hugged his daughter to him and then pulled back slightly. “I just hope you’ll be happy, my dear.”
“So very happy,” she assured him, stepping away from her father with the most radiant smile. Then Bella’s silvery eyes met Greg’s and the joyful sparkle he found there filled him with warmth. She was so amazingly lovely, especially when she smiled and…
“You must be Lady Clayworth,” Aylesford said, breaking Greg from his thoughts.
Greg glanced toward the settee, where Cordie was now standing and said, “Apologies, sir. This is my sister Cordelia, the Countess of Clayworth.”
“Lord Aylesford, it is so nice to meet you,” his sister gushed, coming toward them.
“And you, my lady. Your brother has just been extolling your many virtues to me.”
“He is too kind, I’m sure.” Cordie stopped before the group. “I think Lady Arabella is the luckiest girl in all of London to have captured him, and I am so happy to welcome her into the Avery bosom on behalf of all of our family.”
Welcome her into the Avery bosom? She was certainly laying it on thick, wasn’t she? Greg shot her a glance.
And then someone harrumphed behind them, a rather irritated sound, most definitely.
Greg glanced over his shoulder to find an aged gentleman with a shock of white hair, unfriendly dark eyes and an annoyed scowl upon his face.
“Who are these people?” the man asked, looking past Greg and Cordie, his gaze steady upon the marquess.
Lord Aylesford nodded at the old man in greeting. “Your Grace,” he said to his father, apparently. “This is Lady Clayworth and her brother Lord Avery, who has just now asked for Bella’s hand.”
“Surely, you jest,” the duke scoffed.
Aylesford frowned. “That’s hardly something I would jest about, Father.”
The imposing duke turned his disbelieving gaze from his son to Greg and looked him over from the top of his head to the tips of his Hessians as though he was a specimen that had yet to be identified. “What’s wrong with you, then?” he finally asked, rather dismissively.
“I beg your pardon?” Greg returned, his back stiffening under the duke’s scrutiny.
“Whatever my son has offered you in exchange for the girl’s hand, you should know he is in no position to do so, and I certainly have no intention of handing even a single farthing over to some fortune hunter.”
Fortune hunter! Greg’s blood began to boil at the insult. The Avery barony was more than flush and always had been. Before he could find the words to say as much, he noticed Bella’s gaze was trained on the floor at her feet as though she was too hurt to meet her grandfather’s eyes.
Greg’s heart went out to his temporary fiancée. Insinuating that only a fortune hunter would be interested in pursing the lady, the duke had insulted his granddaughter with the same brush stroke. That was hardly the case. She was genuine, with a pleasing disposition, and she was bloody gorgeous. She should have men lined up outside Chatham House for just a glimpse of her.
But with Chatham for a grandfather, it was no wonder she found herself in the unfortunate position she was in. The duke’s very existence would frighten away any reasonable fellow from pursuing her. Though Greg wasn’t truly pursing Bella, he wasn’t about to let anyone, not even her grandfather, say such things about the girl and especially not in her presence, for God’s sake.
Honestly, though, shouldn’t her father keep the duke from saying such awful things to her? Shouldn’t he at least attempt to defend his daughter’s honor? Apparently not, as the marqu
ess was gazing at his own feet, rather uncomfortably.
So Greg tipped his head higher, directly meeting the duke’s gaze and said, “My funds are quite in order, Your Grace. And Lord Aylesford has not offered me anything other than his blessing, which I am quite certain he is in the position to offer.”
“And dinner,” the marquess added quickly. “It would be so nice, Lord Avery, if you could join us for dinner this evening before we head to the Kelfield ball. It will give you the opportunity to meet all of Bella’s family in a more private setting before the announcement.”
The rest of Bella’s family? He’d already encountered her tyrannical grandfather, her a souse of a brother, and her spineless father. He wasn’t terribly excited about the prospect of meeting any other Winslett, but he agreed with an incline of his head anyway as there was no way he could refuse. “Of course, sir. I look forward to it,” he lied.
Chapter 8
They’d done it! Well, Lord Avery had done it, rather. He’d come to Bella’s aid when no one else was able to do so and saved her from a fate worse than death. She wouldn’t have to marry Johann and spend the rest of her days in Prussia. Her future was uncertain, but not set in stone. Gregory Avery had saved her from that unfortunate destiny and she could never, not in a million years, repay him for his generosity.
It was still hard to believe that he’d offered to help her. When she’d first spotted him that afternoon and recognized him, her heart had leapt. He’d been so handsome that first night at the Astwicks’, and kind in coming to Elliott’s aid…well, at least until her brother had cast up his accounts across his lordship’s boots. But even after that unfortunate event, he was still willing to help Bella. He was almost like her own personal knight in shining armor. And a devastatingly handsome one at that. His dark as night hair, his serious green eyes that seemed to hold such depth – pain, sadness, intelligence, honor, devotion. If she could just capture the look behind those eyes on her canvas…
She rushed, happily, toward her bedchamber, hope burgeoning in her chest. Gregory Avery had saved her, and now life was full of possibilities. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so relieved in her life.
“Bella.” Elliott cleared his throat and dropped against the doorjamb that led to his set of rooms. He looked awful, like he’d spent the night trying to climb his way out of a bottle, but had fallen back in. “I think I might have found a fellow you can marry…”
Oh, drat! She’d almost forgotten that Elliott knew that she needed to find a husband. Honestly, it was surprising he remembered his own name, let alone her unfortunate predicament. But, still, if her brother said the wrong thing to the wrong person, then the carefully plotted plan Lady Clayworth had crafted would be for naught.
“…he’s a bit unlucky at cards, but other than that—”
“Elliott!” she hissed, praying no one else had overheard a word he’d said. “Please don’t say another word.” She lowered her voice to a mere whisper, rushing toward where he stood. “Please.”
Elliott’s light gray eyes rounded in surprise, and then he blinked at her. “But Johann—”
Bella quickly pressed a finger to her brother’s lips to keep him from saying anything else. “I am quite happy, Elliott, to tell you that as of this morning I am now betrothed to Lord Avery of Nottinghamshire. Please, do be happy for me.”
“Lord Avery?” A look of confusion flashed across her brother’s face. “Tristan Avery? Didn’t he—”
Greg’s sainted brother? “No. no.” She quickly shook her head. “He’s Lieutenant Avery’s older brother.”
“Oh…” Then Elliott frowned. “Russell? I hardly think Grandfather would approve of—”
“Russell?” she echoed. Who in the world was Russell?
“Tristan Avery’s older brother.” Elliott’s frown deepened. “I don’t think he’s the sort His Grace would approve of.”
There was another Avery brother? Bella had no idea. Of course, there were probably a million things she didn’t know about Greg or his family, not that any of it was any of her business, of course. She heaved a sigh. “Gregory. Greg Avery is my betrothed, Elliott. I don’t know a thing about Russell.”
“Huh.” Her brother rubbed his brow. “I didn’t realize there was a third brother. Where did you meet him?”
“He kept you from falling on your face the other night and…” you repaid him by casting up your accounts upon his boots. No, the less Elliott knew about the entire situation, the less likely he was to reveal her ruse to someone, accidentally or otherwise. “…And we have fallen quite in love,” she lied.
It would be best, after all, if everyone believed the tale she and Greg would publicly spin this evening at the Kelfields’. At least until it was time for her to cry off.
Her brother’s light eyes narrowed slightly. “And just what do you know about this man?”
She managed not to laugh, but only just barely. A few seconds ago, Elliott was quite willing to offer up a questionable gambler of some sort for her purposes, but now he was suspicious of the seemingly noble Lord Avery? “I know that he is exactly the sort of man I’ve always hoped I would find,” she replied. And as the words left her lips, she knew they were quite true.
There was so much she didn’t know about the handsome baron, so much that she would probably never know and that was quite none of her business; but he was kind and courteous and had come to her rescue when no one else was in the position to do so. And he’d quite admirably held his own against Grandfather, which was a feat not attempted by many. Honestly, Gregory Avery might very well be as sainted as his brother Tristan, no matter if he was in agreement with that assessment or not. And he was most definitely brave, perhaps the bravest man she’d ever met.
“I hope, love, that you’ll always think he is.”
Bella couldn’t imagine anything in the world making her think otherwise. Greg was her own personal knight in shining armor. “Have you seen Prissa?” she asked her brother. After all, it would be best for her sister to hear Bella’s news firsthand.
“She went shopping with that MacLaren chit, I believe.”
Yes, yes. Bella did remember that now. “If you see her…”
“I’ll send her your way, if I do.”
Damn it all. Greg scanned the Chatham drawing room, which was teeming with people. Aylesford had said he should come to dinner that evening to meet Bella’s family, but Greg had no idea the man meant every single person in England who shared a mere drop of blood with the girl. Were all these people her relations? And if so, why hadn’t one of them come to her assistance?
And then, he spotted her on the far side of the room. Bella, his temporary fiancée, so breathtakingly beautiful in a light blue gown that shimmered just slightly. She looked far from comfortable, however, as though she was afraid someone might talk to her. What kind of girl would be intimidated by her own family? Were all of these people as imposing as the Duke of Chatham? If so, that might answer…
Bella glanced toward the threshold and her eyes locked with Greg’s. The most beautiful smile lit her face, and he felt it deep in his soul. Greg couldn’t help but smile back.
“Avery, is that you?” came a somewhat familiar voice before Greg could even think about crossing the floor to his betrothed’s side.
Greg glanced toward the voice and…”Sarsden?” What the devil was he doing here? A bit of dread swirled around Greg as the end to his little ruse with Bella seemed as though it was very quickly about to unravel. After all, it had been just the previous day when the fellow had warned Greg away from matrimony. Perhaps the man would be gone before any formal announcements were made and he could buy himself some time before he saw the man again.
“Are you our mysterious guest?” Sarsden asked, as he stepped from a small group toward Greg and offered his hand in greeting.
Damn it all. Greg hadn’t thought he’d encounter anyone he knew tonight. Well, at least not at Chatham House. “I suppose I am,” he said, shaking the man’s hand.<
br />
Sarsden gestured to a portly fellow just a few feet away. “You remember Lockington?”
The fellow in question turned his head at the sound of his name and flashed a toothy grin.
That was Lockington? Greg hadn’t thought about his former classmate at all over the last fifteen years. Of course, there hadn’t ever been anything remarkable about him. “Yes, of course,” he replied, nodding in the other fellow’s direction. “It’s been an age.”
“Indeed, it has!” Lockington agreed, abandoning his group to join Greg and Sarsden. “Over a dozen years at least, I’m sure.” He offered his hand in greeting as well.
“And even more particular than he used to be.” Sarsden nodded toward Greg. “Weeks at Tattersalls and he finally bid on his first horse yesterday.”
“And won,” Greg added.
“Well, that’s the way to do it.” Lockington chuckled slightly. “Where’ve you been keeping yourself?”
“Nottinghamshire,” Greg replied. “Rufford Hall.”
The portly man shook his head. “Well, you’ve returned to Town just as London is falling quite apart.”
London seemed to be exactly the same cesspool to Greg as it always had, which was one of the reasons he never came to Town. “Oh? In what way?”
Lockington snorted. “Crime is running rampant. He shot a glance at Sarsden. “Walsingham had his pocket picked twice in as many days.”
“It happened again?”
“By the Opera House both times,” Lockington confirmed.
Sarsden shook his head. “One more reason to avoid the opera. At least it will give me a decent excuse the next time Zinnia begs to go.”
“The whole thing is downright depressing.” Lockington heaved a sigh. “I thought that Covent Guard fellow was cleaning up the area.”
“Covent Guard?” Greg echoed.
“Some masked fellow,” Lockington explained and shook his head as though the idea was ludicrous. “Been spotted around Covent Garden the last while, throwing daggers at would-be-thieves.”
