Here Comes the Bride

by Alexandra Ivy

  Not that he would admit his enjoyment to Miss Blakewell, he acknowledged as he turned to glance at the maiden seated on the blanket next to him. She deserved a bit of punishment for so neatly tripping him into his own trap.

  Stretching out his long legs, he leaned upon one elbow and studied her pure profile.

  “I suppose that you are pleased with yourself?”

  Her expression was prim although her full lips twitched with amusement.

  “I do not know what you are referring to, my lord.”

  “You know quite well I did not intend to share our picnic with a pack of noisy scamps.”

  “No?” Her tone was unmistakably smug. “I thought you would be pleased to see for yourself how well Harry is doing.”

  Simon allowed his gaze to turn toward the slender boy darting through the other children with evident pleasure. A sense of satisfaction warmed his heart.

  “He does seem remarkably changed.”

  “And so smart,” Claire informed him. “He shall soon catch up with the rest of the children in his studies.”

  Simon returned his attention to the woman at his side. “Is he in need of anything?”

  “He is content for now,” Claire assured him, then, after a pause, she turned to offer him a suspiciously innocent smile. “Of course, all of the children enjoy outings such as this. We could certainly use a new cart for the orphanage. The one we possess has decidedly seen better days.“

  He gave a sudden bark of laughter. The devious wench. What other woman of his acquaintance would so easily ignore the honor of his attentions and instead cleverly use his interest to further her charitable endeavors?

  None, of course.

  The women of his acquaintance were far more interested in landing a titled husband than in concerning themselves with those less fortunate.

  “And, of course, with a new cart you would certainly need a new horse to pull it about,“ he teased in light tones.

  Claire waved a hand toward the battered cart and swaybacked nag.

  “Yes, I fear old Athena will soon be unable to pull herself up the lane, let alone twenty children and a cart.”

  “You are shameless, Miss Blakewell,” he informed her with an amused glint in his eye. “I am only relieved that you have turned your talents to charitable deeds. You would no doubt be able to fleece the most cunning of cardsharps with that innocent smile and cunning intelligence.”

  “You did ask,” she pointed out with little apology.

  “So I did.” His gaze stroked over her face.

  “And I shall be happy to purchase a new cart and horse.”

  Her smile made his breath catch. “Thank you, Simon.”

  “Any more requests?”

  She gave a surprised laugh at his charitable mood. “Several, but I shall not try your generosity further today.”

  Simon silently acknowledged she was a fool. At the moment he might be willing to promise the throne of England to see that smile again. Instead, he shifted closer, breathing in the scent of lilacs.

  “How very obliging of you.“

  “I can be obliging when I choose,” she retorted in pert tones.

  His gaze deliberately moved to the tempting softness of her lips.

  “What a very provocative notion, my dear.”

  She drew in a soft breath before hurriedly turning her attention to the giggling children.

  “Mr. Lockmeade appears to be enjoying himself.” Her voice was even, but there was a hint of color in her cheeks.

  Simon smiled as he reluctantly allowed her to turn the conversation. He was well enough acquainted with the stubborn chit not to press his luck.

  “Yes. I would never have suspected he would be so patient with children.”

  Claire watched as Locky helped one of the younger children hold on to his pole. At his side Ann Stewart laughed at something he said.

  “He will make an excellent father.”

  Simon gave a slow shake of his head. “I doubt that he will ever wed.”

  Claire was clearly caught off guard. “Whyever not?”

  “He has never felt comfortable among society,” Simon explained, not sure that this woman would comprehend Locky’s discomfort. Claire was a woman who judged others on their inner worth. A rare quality among society. “And there are few mothers who would encourage his suit unless they were on the hunt for a fortune.”

  A frown tugged at her dark brows. “Any mama with sense would be delighted to welcome Mr. Lockmeade into their family.”

  “I fully agree.”

  “Indeed, he is quite above most gentlemen of supposed quality.”

  Simon lifted a hand in mock defeat. “You do not have to convince me, Claire. As far as I am concerned, Locky is one of the finest gentlemen I have ever encountered.”

  There was a slight pause before she turned to face him.

  “And what of you, Simon?” she inquired in a deliberately light tone. “Do you intend to please some hopeful mama and choose a Lady Challmond?”

  Intrigued by her uncharacteristic interest in his private life, Simon gave a faint shrug, a devilish humor tugging on his lips.

  “Duty demands that I eventually wed and produce an heir.”

  Something seemed to flash deep in her eyes, but her expression remained unconcerned.

  “How terribly dull,” she quipped. “I pity your wife.”

  Simon arched an auburn brow. “She shall want for nothing.”

  “Except love.“

  “I did not think you believed in love,” he charged, closely surveying her delicate features.

  “Of course I do,” she surprised him by insisting. “I simply have no desire to experience it for myself.”

  His full lips twitched again. “Surely love is not something you can rationally decide whether you wish to experience it or not?” he teased. “Was it not Shakespeare who claimed that love was a ‘madness most discreet’? It presumably strikes without warning and leaves a poor soul helpless beneath its power.“

  She gave a faint grimace. “You shall soon rival Byron if you do not have a care.”

  “I have no fear of that, my dear,” Simon chuckled.

  Pretending a supreme indifference, Claire plucked a rose petal from her cream-andjade striped gown.

  “So you view love as an unstoppable force and yet you intend to marry for duty?”

  “Duty is just as an unstoppable force.” Simon peered deep into her wide eyes. “Of course, a gentleman might wish for the two to be one and the same.”

  He had merely intended to provoke a rise from the volatile maiden. She was such a delight to tease, and he thoroughly enjoyed seeing her blush at his flirtatious remarks.

  Now, however, he discovered himself lost in the blue-velvet softness. Never before had he wished to gaze into a woman’s eyes. Nor had he felt as if the world were slipping away as a flutter of desire stirred his loins.

  Good God, perhaps he was becoming as doddy as Byron, he thought with an odd flop of his heart.

  The sound of approaching footsteps at last brought him to his dubious senses. Abruptly glancing about, he discovered Ann Stewart regarding him with an unreadable expression. For no reason whatsoever he discovered himself battling the ludicrous urge to blush.

  “I must thank you, Lord Challmond.” Ann smiled with her placid composure. “This is a wonderful outing for the children.”

  Simon gracefully rose to his feet, determinedly thrusting aside his strange reactions. “All the credit must go to Claire, I fear,” he insisted with a slight bow.

  “I also wish to thank you for your very generous donations to the orphanage.”

  “It is my pleasure to be of assistance. I hope you will feel free to come to me if there is anything else you require.”

  “A most dangerous offer, my lord,” she warned with a twinkle in her eye.

  “I also have a request, Miss Stewart.”

  “Yes?”

  “I wish to hire a new steward. I would be grateful if yo
u would offer any suggestions.”

  “I should be happy to, my lord,” Ann promised in pleased tones, then as a splash followed by several angry shouts broke the peace of the afternoon she heaved a small sigh. “Ah, I believe that it is time to return the children to the orphanage. Please excuse me, my lord.”

  Watching as Ann moved back toward the children, Simon was unaware that Claire had also risen to her feet. Only when she began to step away did he realize she was intent on leaving with the others.

  “Wait, Claire.”

  She reluctantly turned back to face him. “I must help Ann.”

  Simon moved forward to firmly grasp her hand. “You have outwitted me today, my dear, but the battle is far from over.” He raised her gloved fingers to his lips. “We shall take the field again.”

  For a timeless moment she allowed her hand to linger, then, with a sharp shake of her head, she pulled her fingers free and swept away. Simon remain~d standing on the blanket with an unconscious frown on his brow.

  He was beginning to suspect that Miss Blakewell was occupying far more of his attention than was reasonable. Surely he should instead be rambling about the countryside with Locky or even enjoying the numerous invitations lying on the foyer table?

  Then, glancing at her lovely face as she stooped to lift one of the smaller children into her arms, his brief unease abrupdy vanished.

  Why shouldn’t he enjoy her companionship? She was by far the most enchanting creature in all of Devonshire. It would be far stranger if he did not seek out her company.

  Suitably reassured, a small smile lightened his countenance.

  He had far more important matters to ponder than why he wished to be with Claire.

  Beginning with how the devil he was supposed to purchase a new cart and horse.

  * * *

  “Blimey.”

  Glancing up from the leather-bound book of poetry she had been reading aloud to the students, Claire discovered Harry standing at the back of the schoolroom with his pug nose pressed to the windowpane. She suppressed a smile. Although Harry possessed a swift intelligence, he found the structured environment of the classroom difficult to accept.

  “Harry, please return to your seat,” she stated in firm tones.

  The boy turned to flash her an engaging grin. “It be your gentleman.“

  A sudden, not wholly unpleasant tingle raced down Claire’s spine.

  “Pardon me?”

  The grin widened. “That lord you always be with.”

  A twittering of muffled giggles had Claire abruptly rising to her feet. It had to be Lord Challmond. What other gentle,man could Harry mean? But why would he be at the orphanage?

  “Children, please return to your studies,” she ordered. “I shall be only a moment.”

  With crisp steps Claire left the schoolroom and moved down the short hall to the front entrance. Then, sternly quelling the unruly beat of her heart, she composed her features and stepped into the late morning sunlight.

  Determined to present a cool composure, Claire was immediately thrown off guard as she caught sight of Lord Challmond standing beside a large horse and cart.

  Although he had promised yesterday to purchase the equipage, she had never expected him to manage it so swiftly. In fact, she had presumed he would hand the task over to one of his servants and forget all about it. Now she found herself blinking in amazement.

  Clearly pleased at her undeniable surprise, Simon performed an elegant bow. As always, he appeared ridiculously handsome in a deep green coat and buff pantaloons. His auburn hair shimmered with a hint of sunlight, and that heartwrenching smile tugged at his full lips.

  “Good morning, Claire.“

  With an effort she gathered her composure. “Good morning, Simon.”

  He waved a hand toward the cart. “I hope you approve?”

  “How could I not approve?” she demanded. “But I must admit that I am surprised.”

  He tilted his head in a familiar manner. “You did request a cart and horse, did you not?”

  “Yes, but . . .”

  “But?”

  She gave a small shrug. “But I did not expect you to manage so swiftly.”

  He merely smiled at her blunt retort. “Does it meet your requirements?”

  “It is perfect.” Moving forward, Claire ignored the tingle of awareness that sent a rash of goose bumps over her skin. After a long, restless night she had reluctantly concluded that there was no reasonable explanation for her odd reaction to Lord Challmond. Instead, she concentrated on the glossy chestnut mare. “What a lovely girl. What is her name?”

  Simon moved to lightly stroke the mare’s silky mane. “Lady.”

  “Lady?” Claire repeated in unconsciously disappointed tones.

  The emerald eyes shimmered with amusement. “Perhaps the children would like to choose her a new name.”

  “Yes.” She paused, then forced herself to meet his gaze. “This is most kind of you, Simon.”

  Turning from the horse, he was close enough for her to feel the heat of his form through her pale apricot gown.

  “Does it please you?” he asked softly.

  She felt the tingles hurry through her body. “Very much.”

  He smiled deep into her eyes. “Good. I also have a gift for you.”

  “I could not accept a gift.”

  “You do not even know what it is,” he reminded her gently.

  Really, did the gentleman have to be so utterly charming? she wondered with a stab of exasperation.

  “It would not be proper.“

  He reached out to lightly brush a raven curl from her forehead.

  “And you are quite a stickler for propriety, eh, Claire?” he teased.

  Her chin tilted. “Certainly.“

  Simon clicked his tongue at her patent lie, but thankfully he turned away from her heated cheeks to lean into the nearby cart. She frowned in suspicion as he reached beneath the seat and retrieved a black ball of fur.

  “This gift will in no way offend propriety, I assure you, Claire.”

  He held out the fuzzy ball, and suddenly two blue eyes popped open to reveal the object was a tiny cat. Claire felt her heart instantly melt.

  “Oh.”

  She reached out to take the enchanting creature, holding it to her chest in an instinctively protective fashion.

  “She reminded me of you,” Simon said softly, a rather odd expression on his handsome countenance as he studied the kitten pressed to her heart. “Raven hair with bluevelvet eyes. An angel with claws.”

  “She is beautiful.” Claire rubbed her chin against the silky head. “Where did you get her?”

  “Mrs. Foley. She was the tiniest and fiercest of the litter.” He paused. “So you will keep her?”

  “Of course.” She did not bother to hide her pleasure. “Thank you, Simon.”

  “You are welcome, Claire.” He stepped forward, his gaze easily holding her own. Something shimmering in the emerald eyes sent a flare of heat racing through Claire’s body. His hand reached out to grasp her chin. She could have pulled away, but she found herself unable to move as his head began to lower. “Very welcome, indeed,” he whispered before his mouth was claiming her own in a warm, searching kiss.

  Claire quivered as the now-familiar excitement pooled in the pit of her stomach. In the back of her mind a voice cautioned that she should pull away. That only a wanton of the worst sort enjoyed the advances of a known rake. But the pleasure shimmering through her body was far too potent to battle. She gave a soft moan as his lips became more possessive, savoring the softness of her mouth. It was only the faint sound of giggles that at last pulled them apart. Raising his head with obvious reluctance, Simon closely scrutinized her dazed countenance.

  “It appears we have an audience.”

  With a surge of embarrassment Claire glanced toward the schoolroom, where a dozen tiny faces were pressed against the window. Good God, she chastised herself, she was hardly a fit chaperon for young child
ren. Why, she was no better than a common tart. Turning back to the amused gentleman, she stabbed him with a flustered glare.

  “My lord, you really must halt your habit of kissing me.”

  He tilted back his head to laugh at her prim command. “But why?”

  “Because it is not proper.”

  “Perhaps it is not proper, but it is certainly delightful,” he murmured.

  All too delightful, she acknowledged with a flare of panic. Suddenly she needed to be away from this disturbing gentleman. How could she possibly be expected to think in a rational manner when her heart was racing and her stomach fluttering with the most distracting sensations?

  In time she would laugh at the absurd incident, she futilely assured herself. But for now she could only flee.

  “I . . . I must go.“

  Clutching the kitten to her unruly heart, Claire turned on her heel and raced back toward the orphanage. Behind her she could hear the soft sound of Simon’s laughter taunting her blatant cowardice, but for once she did not care.

  She wanted only to be away from the gentleman causing such disruption in her calm life.

  Ten

  It was several hours later before Claire left the safety of the orphanage. It had been a struggle to concentrate on helping the students with their studies, especially when confronted with their muffled giggles. She felt a fool, and it did not help to realize that a dozen children had witnessed her folly.

  At least the kitten proved a welcome distraction. The children had taken great delight in retrieving a saucer of milk from the kitchen, and each took turns holding the small animal. They had even helped her to name the kitten Portia after the character in The Merchant of Venice.

  After helping to serve the modest lunch, Claire had at last said her good-byes, but on the point of leaving she discovered herself hesitating. She rather rudely walked away from Simon, she acknowledged with a pang. She should at least ensure that Lady was comfortably settled. Whatever her muddled feelings toward Lord Challmond, it was a most generous gift, a gift that would be of great service to the children for years to come.

  Veering toward the rather dilapidated stables, Claire entered the shadowed interior. It took only a moment to discover the chestnut mare in a clean stall. The horse gave a toss of her proud head as Claire approached and gently set the kitten on a pile of hay.