by Ava Stone
He winced slightly. “Of course not. It was a foolish suggestion.”
“Well, you have your new Andalusian. I can see—”
“Tomorrow,” Greg said with a nod. “We’ll go riding tomorrow. How’s that?”
“That sounds perfect,” she said. “You’re sure you don’t mind sitting in the same spot today?”
“I’ll muddle through.” He winked at her. Then he started toward the settee to resume his spot from the day before.
“Oh!” Bella lifted up her smock in her hand. “Would you mind tying this around me?”
“Of course not,” he agreed with a nod.
Bella slipped the smock over her head and Greg came up behind her, grasping the sash in his hands. “You smell wonderful,” he said near her ear, making a shiver race across her skin.
Goodness. Was someone nearby who needed to be convinced of their betrothal? She glanced over her shoulder at him, so very close, close enough for him to kiss her again if he was of a mind to do so. Bella swallowed a bit nervously before muttering, “Sweet pea oil in my bath.”
He tied the sash around her waist, but let his hand linger on her hip for just a moment and warmth settled in her core.
Goodness, it was quite hot all of a sudden.
“So you want me just to sit where I did yesterday?”
Bella thought she might much rather have him kiss her again, but she couldn’t say that. So she nodded instead. “If you don’t mind.”
Greg nodded in agreement and then made his way back to the settee. “While I’m here today, sitting completely still, I think I’ll ask you some questions to pass the time.”
Bella started for her canvas in the corner but did frown at him. “You’re not supposed to talk, Greg. Remember?”
“Just a question here or there. I’ll keep my face still. I’ll mutter through my lips, I promise.”
She laughed as she shook her head and reached for her valise to retrieve the paints she’d need today. “What sort of questions?”
“A variety of them, I’m sure.” He leaned back on the settee, in the same spot he was in the day before, casually leaning against the back, his arms straight down on either side of him. “Where is the furthest you’ve traveled?”
“I went to York once, visiting a friend of Papa’s. It was quite charming,” she said as images of the city popped in her mind. Though there was one site, of course, that stood out amongst the others. “York Minster was gorgeous, however. The architecture, the lines, the colors in the stained glass…”
“Everything seen through an artist’s eye?” Greg said softly.
“I suppose so.” Bella placed her paints on the table and glanced over at him. “I never thought of it that way.”
“No further than York?” He regarded her as though she was the most fascinating girl in the world. “Is there anywhere you’d like to travel?”
“Florence,” she said quickly. “I’ve always wanted to see Florence. Milan. Rome. Paris.”
“Is that all?” His green eyes twinkled as he watched her.
Bella grinned at him and shook her head. “I’d like to see so many places. The colors, the different styles and shapes of architecture, the people.”
“But not the countryside?”
“The countryside?” she echoed.
“There are colors and…shapes in the countryside, aren’t there?” Greg shrugged. “There are certainly people.”
“Not seeing things through an artist’s eye?” she giggled.
“Definitely not,” he agreed. “Though I’ve always found Nottinghamshire to be charming in it’s own way.”
Nottinghamshire. His home. “You don’t care for London?”
“The dirt, the smell, the hoards of people?” He shook his head. “No. I’d much prefer to be home at Rufford Hall.”
“Why did you come to Town, then?” she asked, adding some orange and white to her palette.
“My sister,” he said softly. “She suffered a great heartache shortly before the season began and…well, Tristan stressed upon me the importance of all of us being together to offer our support.”
A heartache? Bella was curious to know what he meant by that, but she didn’t want to impose. “She’s lucky to have you.”
“That has not always been true,” he muttered, and Bella wasn’t certain if he’d meant for her to hear that bit or not.
She returned her attention to her paints and swirled the colors around until she reached the exact shade of his flesh that she was hoping for. “Are you ready to resume your expression from yesterday?”
And he quickly adopted the same thoughtful expression he wore the day before. “Could you be talked into enjoying the countryside?” he asked, or at least she thought that was what he asked as he seemed to struggle with keeping his lips from moving as he spoke.
“I don’t dislike the countryside,” she said, trying not to giggle at his attempt to maintain a conversation even now.
“Your father said you prefer Town.”
“Greg,” she lightly chastised. “You’re not supposed to move your lips.”
“Yes, I know. I’m a horrible subject. But do answer the question, Bella.”
She lifted her brush to her canvas as she said, “I do prefer Town, the people, the energy that comes from being here. I imagine the countryside would be more pleasant without my grandfather, but thus far I’ve never been in the country without him. Much more difficult to escape him when there’s nowhere else to be.”
“I promise never to invite him to Rufford Hall, should you ever want to come there.”
Bella glanced back over at Greg. If she didn’t know better, she’d suspect he was actually courting her. Why else would he suggest her visiting Rufford Hall? “You shall have to tell me all about it.” And then she held up her fingers. “When I’m not painting you.”
Greg clamped his lips together, which only made Bella laugh. Goodness, if only he was courting her…
She would never want for anything else for the rest of her life.
Greg was definitely letting this pretend betrothal go to his head. She was the most lovely girl. And she was kind and charming and…she smelled amazing. Sitting there, only able to watch her, was the tiniest bit tortuous, especially when he really wanted to kiss her again and again and again.
Which was ridiculous.
The last thing he should be doing is kissing Bella Winslett, or thinking about kissing her, rather. But how could he do otherwise? It was this damned temporary betrothal. He was expected to spend time with her. He was expected to tell anyone who asked how much he cared for her. And he was expected to look at her as though she held his heart in her hands.
None of those things were any sort of hardship, not at all. But the pretending to have feelings for her…well, he was afraid he was even fooling himself into believing he was falling in love with her. She was, after all, perfect in so many ways.
Perhaps he needed a day or two on his own, some time to get the thoughts in his mind straight again. Some distance from her before he made a giant fool out of himself.
“Are you all right?” Bella asked, and Greg turned his attention to her.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your expression.” She frowned at him. “You look…frustrated?”
That was definitely one word for it. “Apologies,” he said and tried to adopt the peaceful look he thought he’d sported most of the previous day. “Better?”
“Greg,” she placed her palette and brush back down on the table. “If you don’t want to do this today…” Bella shook her head. “We don’t even have to do this at all, not if you don’t want to. I’ve already asked so much of you…”
“No, no, I don’t mind,” he said. Greg raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know why I’m so restless today, Bella.”
A sweet smile graced her lips and Greg’s heart lifted just a bit. “I am happy to go home and change into a riding habit. Or—” she shrugged slightly “—you don’t hav
e to be with me at all, if you’d rather be alone.”
“No,” he said quickly. He didn’t want to be alone, even if he had just thought that having some distance from her would do him a bit of good. But he had been quite alone for so long, and he did enjoy her company… “How about shopping?” he suggested. “I’ve been meaning to head to Garrard to find something for Cordie’s birthday in a few weeks. I’m sure you’d have a much better eye for what to get her than I would.”
“What girl doesn’t like looking at jewelry?” She grinned at him and his heart beat slightly faster.
“Oh?” Greg asked as he pushed off the settee to start toward her. “And what sort of jewelry do you prefer, Bella? Any particular stone?”
Diamonds. He could see her with diamonds around her slender neck, twinkling just so, reflecting the silver of her eyes.
“I don’t know that I have a preference,” she said, her cheeks pinkening just slightly. “The color of each stone is unique and interesting in its own right, don’t you think?”
To see the world through the eyes of an artist. Even so, she didn’t see herself the way he saw her, she couldn’t possibly.
Diamonds, Greg decided. She should only ever wear diamonds, and perhaps nothing else. At that thought, he shifted in his spot. Yes, yes, being somewhere…anywhere but completely alone with her would be conducive to his state of mind and hopefully his state of arousal.
As Greg directed his phaeton through Mayfair and then onto Haymarket, Bella took in everything along their journey to R., J., & S. Garrard - the shoppers along Bond Street, the coaches and bustle of Piccadilly, and the more subdued pedestrians on Haymarket. If only she had enough time to capture it all on canvas. If only she’d been able to capture Greg, his stoic nature with just a hint of humor and more than a little honor exuding from him.
She glanced up at him, beside her on the bench, as he directed his bays onto Panton Street. “You never told me the furthest place you’ve traveled,” she said.
“Belgium.” He cast her a sidelong glance, while keeping his focus on the road and his matched pair. “Visited my brothers before Waterloo.”
That was definitely farther than York. “Oh? What did you think of it?”
“Brussles was bustling, I suppose.” He shrugged. “Though most of my memories are the aftermath of the battle. Not the most pleasant of thoughts, to be honest.”
No, Bella supposed not. “Well, is there any place you’d like to travel?”
That disarming smile of his spread across his face. “Does Nottinghamshire count?”
Bella couldn’t help but laugh as she shook her head. “I think I shall have to see it for myself in order to judge the validity of your choice.”
Greg pulled back on his ribbons, drawing the phaeton to a stop before the jewelry shop. Then he turned his head to better see her. “If you’re of a mind to do so, that can certainly be arranged.”
He hopped down from the conveyance, offered a lad on the street a few coins if he’d keep an eye on the horses, then navigated around the back of the phaeton and plucked Bella from her seat as though lifting her took no effort at all. Goodness, his hands on her waist made her heart pound and her breath catch. And that serious look in his green eyes made her mouth go a little dry. Bella was fairly certain she could study his expressions for a lifetime and never grow tired. What would it be like to have him touch her every day, for him to kiss her, for him to show her all Nottinghamshire had to offer? Nottingham didn’t sound bad in the least, not really, not as long as Greg would be there. “I think I would like that,” she said softly. “To see Rufford Hall.”
Greg’s green eyes twinkled as he squeezed her waist just a bit. “If you keep looking at me like that, Bella, you’ll make me believe this is all for real.”
Perhaps it was. Or perhaps not. She wasn’t even certain how to tell. But goodness, she needed to keep her wits about her or she’d end up with the worst of broken hearts when this was all over.
Greg released her waist and offered her his arm. Bella felt the loss of his hands on her almost instantly, but she accepted his proffered arm and let him lead her into the jewelry shop.
“…it is highly usual, my lord,” a fellow behind one of the counters began, talking to a patron... “We cannot keep—”
“Yes, well, His Grace appreciates your discretion in the matter,” the client replied. Goodness! Was that Elliott!
Bella tightened her grasp on Greg’s arm. She couldn’t help it. What in the world was her brother doing at Garrard? He’d mentioned His Grace, but she didn’t for one moment think he was there on an errand for Grandfather.
“Elliott?” she said, catching her brother off guard as he spun around in his place.
His silvery eyes flashed from Bella to Greg and back again. “What are you doing here?” he asked, a guilty expression splashed across his face.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
Elliott glanced over his shoulder at the fellow behind the counter and said, “Just looking a few items over. Your turn.”
Looking a few items over? What utter nonsense. Just a few days ago, Elliott was begging Bella for her pin money and asking Greg for a loan. The last place she imagined her brother would turn up was at an exclusive jewelry store to make any sort of purchase. And this particular jeweler was a bit out of the way. She highly doubted Elliott had simply stumbled in off the street just to look around. No, no. He was up to something. His guilty expression said as much.
“Lord Avery is shopping for his sister’s birthday and asked for my assistance,” she said, trying to sort out exactly what her brother was about.
“I’ll be right with you, my lord,” the store clerk said, glancing toward Greg.
“No rush,” Greg replied. “We’re not in a hurry. Please do finish up with Lord Gillingham.”
Elliott swallowed a bit nervously, then he muttered something over his shoulder to the clerk, though Bella couldn’t possibly hear whatever it was. Then the man disappeared through a back door with something that looked quite a bit like Grandmama’s yellow diamond earbobs in his hands, and Bella’s heart twisted painfully. Elliott was clearly selling their grandmother’s jewelry for money! He had to be, and the pieces weren’t even his to sell.
“Those were Grandmama’s,” she accused after the door closed behind the jewelry clerk.
“They’re part of the Chatham estate,” her brother countered. “Which will be mine someday.”
So it was all right to steal from it now?
“There’s no harm in me taking an early advance on what will be mine.”
Goodness! What was wrong with him? How could he not see how awful his actions where? Bella thought she might be sick. “Papa meant to give those to me, Elliott. He said Grandmama wanted me to have them.”
A bit of red stained her brother’s cheeks, and he should be embarrassed considering what she’d just caught him doing. “Yes, well, I’m sure Avery will keep you awash in jewels after you’re married. You’ll never have need for those particular earbobs.”
That was hardly the point. Even if she was marrying Greg, which she wasn’t, but if she was to do so, anything he might keep her awash in would be his to give. And those earbobs had belonged to her beloved grandmother, and the sentimental value of them could never be replaced. “Elliott—” she began, but Greg squeezed her fingers, halting her from saying anything else.
And he was right to do so. Speaking in public about such things would never do. That clerk could be back any—
As if on cue, the man did return that instant, stepping back into the main room. He flashed Bella and Greg an apologetic smile. “Just one more moment.” Then he handed Elliott an envelope that could only be filled with pound notes from the sale.
Nausea began to well up inside Bella. Goodness. Had Elliott done this before? Had even more Chatham estate jewelry gone missing and no one had yet noticed?
Her brother pocketed the envelope and then made a quick dash to escape the shop
before Bella could say anything else to stop him.
“I’d like to see the earbobs Lord Gillingham just left, if you don’t mind,” Greg said evenly.
The clerk blanched a bit. “I’m not quite ready to sell those pieces, my lord. They need to be cleaned and settings inspected.”
Greg released a sigh and Bella’s arm as he stepped toward the jeweler. “I will take them as is along with anything else his lordship sold you on behalf of His Grace.”
“Greg,” Bella said under her breath, coming up behind him. He couldn’t possibly—
He glanced back at her over his shoulder. “Your grandmother meant for you to have them.” Then he shook his head. “Though you might want to hide them some place safe so that your brother can’t stumble upon them. Or…”
Or Elliott might sell them all over again to someone else? What a horrible thought.
But Greg was beyond noble in trying to preserve Grandmama’s memory and her wishes. Even still, “I can’t let you buy…”
One of his dark imperious eyebrows lifted slightly. “I can purchase anything I’d like for my betrothed. And I won’t hear another word about it.”
Except she wasn’t really his betrothed, and she couldn’t really let him do such a thing. “Greg.”
But he turned back to the store clerk and said, “Wrap them up, please.” Then he took out a calling card from his pocket and offered it to the man. “And if Lord Gillingham returns with any other pieces, I’d like to be notified.”
“My lord,” the jeweler said, looking more than uncomfortable. “We are not a pawn shop, but …”
“Yes?”
“Well, I didn’t want to risk angering His Grace, and so…”
Greg gestured to the card in the clerk’s hands. “You will notify me if his lordship returns with any other pieces.”
The man quickly nodded. “Yes, of course, my lord.” And then he made his way back into the room he’d vanished into before.
“Greg,” Bella began once more. “I have already asked too much of you. You don’t have—”
“No, I don’t have to do anything,” he agreed, turning around to face her. His brow furrowed as though he was deep in thought. “But I want to do this, Bella.” Then the tiniest of smiles quirked the edges of his lips. “Now simply say ‘thank you’ and then nothing else about it, all right?”
