Miss Summers gave a shake of her head. “I wish it were so, my lady, but I have always known that I was a sore disappointment to my father. He no doubt wishes that I could have been more like my mother. She always seemed to know precisely what to say and how to make others feel comfortable.”
Bella felt a surge of compassion. Having lost her own mother at a young age, she knew precisely how difficult it was to be raised in the shadow of memories. A young girl could not help but compare herself to her mother and find herself wanting, especially without the loving support of a father.
“You have your own strengths, my dear,” Lady Stenhold insisted.
Miss Summers’s smile returned. “That is what Lord Brasleigh tells me.”
“Then he is quite right.”
There was a sound across the way and the three ladies turned to discover the vicar waving his arm in an imperative manner.
“Oh, Father is ready to leave,” Miss Summers exclaimed. “I must make sure his luncheon is prepared. Excuse me.” With a hasty dip, the maiden rushed away to join her father.
Bella watched her retreat with a faint frown. There was no doubt that Miss Summers appeared decidedly improved by Lord Brasleigh’s efforts. Still, her own feelings toward the gentleman remained a tangle of anger and suspicion. How could he be such a noble gentleman one moment and an out-and-out cad the next?
“Lord Brasleigh seems to have found favor with one lady in the neighborhood,” Lady Stenhold pointed out with a narrowed gaze upon Bella’s pale countenance.
Bella’s lips thinned. “As I said, he is a very accomplished flirt.”
“Still, it is kind of him to make such an effort with poor Miss Summers. She has had precious few gentlemen offer her such attention.”
“I only hope that she is not hurt,” Bella muttered.
Lady Stenhold reached out to pull Bella’s arm through her own. “I am certain that all will be well.”
“If you say so.”
“Come along, my dear.”
* * *
Negligently standing in the shadows of the church, Philip watched with a faint smile as Lady Stenhold and Bella climbed into the carriage. He had not missed Bella’s covert glance in his direction, nor the faint hint of relief as she realized he was still present.
He had no doubt she intended to seek her private chambers the moment she returned to the estate. Lady Stenhold always rested after church, and the maiden would not want to risk being alone with him. But Philip was already one move ahead of her, and before the carriage had even begun to move, he had given a faint wave to Pudding and was swiftly retrieving his mount.
Within moments, he was away from the church and cutting through the back meadows and fields that would lead to Mayfield. Bella had eluded him for the past week. Today would be different.
Unconsciously humming a tune, Philip urged his mount to a gallop. The sun was warm on his face and a faint breeze carried the scent of clover. A beautiful day for a ride, but Philip did not allow himself to linger. Instead, he cut a direct path to the estate, barely slowing his horse to a trot as he entered the stables. Then, leaving his mount in the care of a groom, he crossed to the gardens to enter through the side door. He did, however, pause long enough to pluck a perfect rose from a nearby bush.
Once inside, he was careful to check that there were no servants about to view his entrance. With graceful stealth, he climbed the steps and made his way to Bella’s room. For a moment, he paused to inspect the tidy chamber, noting the obvious lack of possessions scattered about. He had known that she was unable to take many things on her hurried flight and could only shake his head in bewilderment. What maiden with the least amount of sense would flee the lavish existence he had offered her for a life as a common servant?
Granted, her place with Lady Stenhold was less than onerous, but it was still one that was far from her position as his ward. Or as Monsieur LeMont’s wife. She was clearly incapable of making suitable decisions for her own future.
Philip settled his tall form on the wide bed. Miss Bella Lowe might possess more spirit than he had originally suspected, but he knew that his constant attentions were wearing down her staunch courage. It would take little more to have her scurrying back to his estate. Beginning today he intended to bellow the flames a bit higher.
A rather startling flare of anticipation raced through his body as he heard the sound of light footsteps approaching. He could not deny he was enjoying this game with his ward. Perhaps more than he had enjoyed anything in a very long time.
Watching the door open, Philip was silent as Bella entered and firmly shut the door behind her. Then, with an audible breath of relief, she slowly turned only to freeze in horror.
“You . . .”
With his most engaging grin, Philip held out the rose he had picked. “I brought you this.”
A sharp color flooded her cheeks at his audacity. “How dare you come in here? Do you mean to create a scandal?”
Unrepentant, he allowed a slow smile to curve his mouth. “You know what I wish.”
“This is too much, sir.” She stomped her foot in childish rage. “Leave this room immediately.”
Slowly rising to his feet, he deliberately strolled until he was towering over her trembling form. “But I have no desire to leave. And I believe that if you would only be honest, you would admit that you too have no desire for me to leave.”
“You . . .” Her nose flared with fury. “I can only presume that you received a head wound during the war, my lord. Or else you are simply daft. There could be no other excuse for your inability to comprehend the word no.”
Philip chuckled at her fierce tone. “Thankfully my head made it through the war without incident, as did the rest of me. Of course, if you doubt my word you could always examine me yourself.”
Her chest heaved in fury. A most enticing sight, Philip was forced to conclude.
“The only thing I wish is for you to leave my chamber.”
“Come, come, my love. This game has gone on quite long enough. I have played my part, and now it is time for you to play yours.”
“If you do not leave, I shall scream,” she threatened, her tone unsteady.
He gave a slow shake of his head. “Do not be absurd, my dear. We both knew this moment would come the moment our eyes met. It is destiny.”
Philip watched in fascination as color stained her pale countenance. She had never appeared lovelier.
“I will scream, and Lady Stenhold will throw you out of her house,” she assured him.
“Did you know that your eyes become the darkness of an Italian sky at midnight when you are angry?” he murmured softly.
His compliment only fueled her ire. “My lord . . .”
“Philip,” he interrupted softly.
“What?”
“I wish to hear my name upon your lips.”
“Sir,” she retorted in stern tones.
“I see I shall have to convince you.” Reaching up, he framed her tiny face with gentle hands. “Say my name.”
“No . . .” she breathed, her eyes wide and dark with emotion.
Allowing the exquisite tension to build, Philip slowly lowered his head, capturing her lips with masterful pressure.
Intent on plunder, Philip meant to prove just how vulnerable she was to a man intent on seduction. But once again, he was caught off guard as his mouth encountered the sweet tenderness of her lips. Heavens above, they seemed to melt beneath the heat of his touch, molding to his own with a bewitching innocence. With a low groan, his hands dropped to stroke her neck and down the modest line of her bodice. His kiss was meant to be a punishment. A lesson to frighten her into marriage. But as he felt her soft body press closer to his own, all thoughts of punishment were vanquished by a flare of searing heat.
His heart gave a savage kick as he expertly parted her lips and deepened the kiss. He wanted to drown in her seductive innocence. To tutor her in the delights of passion.
His hands moved once agai
n, rounding her slender waist to press her to his stirring thighs. With one smooth movement, he could have her off her feet and lying. upon the bed. He would slowly strip away the bothersome dress and kiss the rose-petal tips of her breasts to poignant desire. He would ease apart those slender legs....
“Philip . . .” she whispered softly. “Oh, Philip.”
With the shock of a bucket of cold water being tossed upon his head, Philip abruptly realized what he was doing.
Good gads! Had he completely lost his wits? He was despicable, he told himself. No, worse than despicable. He was as bad as any lecher he was supposedly attempting to protect Bella from.
Untangling himself from her clinging arms, he gave a sharp shake of his head. He had been a fool to come to this room, he chastised himself. No, more than a fool. Frightening the chit into marriage was one thing, but to actually consider laying her upon the bed and . . .
Philip felt a shudder wrack his body. Whatever his motives, he had behaved in a shameful manner. And it did not help to realize that the heat that had sparked between them still smoldered in the pit of his stomach.
Thoroughly repulsed with himself, Philip abruptly stepped past the bemused maiden and stormed from the room.
He did not consider the realization that far from being frightened, she had responded with trembling enthusiasm. Or that he had managed to coerce her into saying his name. His only thought was that he had come perilously close to seducing his own ward.
Six
As he left the room, Philip was no more ashamed and bewildered than Bella.
Scrubbing an angry hand over her throbbing lips, she sought to banish the searing heat that had flooded to the very tips of her toes. She had been beyond foolish. It did not matter that she had been caught off guard. Or that Lord Brasleigh was obviously a master of seduction. He had pressed his lips to hers, and she had melted like the most susceptible schoolgirl.
Why? Why did this gentleman possess the ability to make her blood rush and her stomach quiver?
Could it be that she was so shallow she could be vulnerable to a handsome face and practiced skill, no matter how contemptible their motives?
With a shudder of revulsion, Bella leaned against her dressing stand; then, as another wave of selfloathing coursed through her, she grasped a tiny figurine and hurled it across the room. Although she would no doubt later regret her impulsive action, for the moment she thoroughly enjoyed the sound of shattering glass. It somehow echoed the feeling of her own shattered belief in passion and love.
How innocent she had been to presume that passion could only be inspired when love was present. She had never realized the power of a man’s touch or her own unruly response to a practiced kiss.
Fool. Fool. Fool.
On the point of tossing yet another figurine, Bella was halted as the door opened and a maid nervously entered the chambers. The young servant’s eyes widened at the sight of the broken glass. “Oh.”
With an effort, Bella drew herself upright, although there was nothing she could do about the high color still staining her cheeks. “Hello, Mary.”
“What has occurred?”
“What has occurred? Men, that’s what has occurred,” Bella seethed out loud.
Mary gave a startled blink. “Men?”
“Who else could infuriate a reasonable woman? They are all overbearing, selfish boors, and I assure you the world would be a better place without them.”
The maid was clearly shocked. No doubt, she had been properly trained to believe there was nothing more sacred than capturing and pleasing a husband. She appeared deeply distressed by such a lack of respect.
“Oh, you cannot mean that, ma’am.”
“I assure you that I do,” Bella snapped, placing all her current troubles and woes directly onto Lord Brasleigh’s shoulders. If the impossible man had remained in London where he belonged, she would have been perfectly happy and secure.
“But surely . . .” Mary stammered to an uncomfortable halt.
“What?”
“Well, surely every lady desires a gentleman to love and protect her?”
Bella gave a loud snort. “You mean a gentleman to order her about and control her life without regard to her own feelings?”
Mary gave a small shake of her head, obviously not as intimately acquainted with the treachery of men as Bella. “Gentlemen were meant to care for women.”
“Fah.” Bella thought of her own father’s disregard and then Lord Brasleigh’s determination to rid himself of her. “I am perfectly capable of caring for myself, and I have no desire to be bothered by the demands of a supposed gentleman.”
Mary heaved a wistful sigh. “I should like to have a husband someday.”
Bella resisted the urge to inform the gullible maid that a husband would no doubt only add to her burden of a life of servitude. Girls liked to dream of love, not of being commanded to cook and clean and raise the numerous children with as little trouble to the husband as possible.
Besides, however cynical she might feel at the moment, she could not entirely give up on love. Wasn’t that why she had fled rather than wed a complete stranger?
“Well, perhaps you shall be fortunate enough to discover a husband who does not treat you as part of his property,” she muttered. “But I should not hold out much hope.”
“You are simply upset, Mrs. Smith.” Mary sent her a soothing smile.
“Yes, I am,” Bella admitted with a rueful grimace. “And I have no right to take my ill humor out on you, Mary. Forgive me.”
Mary waved aside the apology. “It is nothing. I suppose you are angry with Lord Brasleigh?”
Bella froze. Had the maid seen the two of them together? “Why would you think that this has anything to do with Lord Brasleigh?”
“It is just that . . . Well, I have noticed the manner in which he watches you,” Mary hesitantly explained. “He cannot take his gaze from you when you enter the room.”
Bella’s expression hardened. Blast the devilish lord. Now he had even caused the servants to notice his unwelcome attentions. Soon she would be the source of gossip throughout the neighborhood. “I wish he would go away.”
“Oh, you should not say such a thing, miss. He is a fine gentleman. Always so polite and generous to the staff. Not at all like most London nobs.” A coy expression crossed the maid’s countenance. “And so handsome.”
“He is a . . .” Bella reluctantly bit back her condemning words. There was no use in fueling the maid’s avid curiosity about her relationship with Lord Brasleigh. “It is of no importance. Was there something that you needed, Mary?”
“Lady Stenhold has requested that you join her in the front drawing room.”
Bella heaved a sigh. She wanted nothing more than to lock herself in her rooms and brood for the remainder of the day. “Did she say why?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Very well,” Bella conceded, knowing it was impossible to hide forever. “Tell her I will join her in a moment.”
“Of course.” With a bob, the maid left the room.
Bella lifted shaking hands to make sure her curls were still safely tucked atop her head. There was little use in postponing the inevitable, she decided. Although Lady Stenhold was far from demanding, she was tenacious. With a regretful glance around the sweetly silent room, she turned to make her way into the hall and then to the sweeping staircase. On the last stair, she prepared to turn toward the front drawing room when the sound of approaching footsteps had her cowardly darting behind a large potted plant. A familiar tingle warned her who was approaching. Peeking through the branches, she was not surprised to spot Lord Brasleigh abruptly appearing from a side door and heading directly into the library.
At his entrance, Bella could see Lord Blackmar abruptly rising to his feet. “Good lord, Bras, what has occurred?”
Knowing she should slip away before she was discovered, Bella was halted as Lord Brasleigh roughly growled, “My bloody ward. That’s what is the matter.�
�
* * *
“I believe this calls for a drink,” Lord Blackmar retorted, easily noting the dark expression marring Philip’s countenance.
Philip did not protest. He was beyond hiding his seething emotions. Not that he intended to reveal the cause for his current distemper, he acknowledged wryly. How did he confess that he longed to toss his ward onto the nearest bed and drown in her sweetness?
“Several drinks,” he rasped, accepting the proffered glass of brandy and downing it in one gulp.
“Here.” Pudding had wisely brought the bottle and swiftly refilled Philip’s glass. Then, tilting his head to one side, he regarded his friend with a narrowed gaze. “Would you like to share what has you in such a foul mood?”
Philip’s features twisted. “I am merely annoyed with the entire bloody mess. I should be in London enjoying myself, not acting like a fool in the midst of this godforsaken country.”
Pudding regarded him for a long moment before allowing a rather mysterious smile to curve his lips. “I had quite convinced myself you were enjoying your role as the debauched seducer.”
A flame of heat scorched Philip’s cheeks at the accusation. It was far too close for comfort. “What the deuce are you implying?” he demanded.
Pudding raised his hands in a vague motion. “Well, I have never seen you so enwrapped with a lady before—even those you actually intended to seduce. Certainly Miss Ravel never received such attentions.”
“Fah.” Philip refused to acknowledge that the beautiful actress had never captured his attention as Bella had. “I assure you, this all has been a game, nothing more.”
“A very enticing game, no doubt,” Pudding purred.
Philip rewarded his friend with a glare. “Pudding.”
The brilliantly attired gentleman gave a sudden laugh. “Well, even you have to admit that she is unreasonably beautiful.”
“She is also unreasonably stubborn, ill behaved, and without the least amount of common sense.”
Pudding raised his brows at Philip’s fierce tone. “You knew that before we came,” he pointed out with unshakable logic. “So what has you in such a twit?”
Here Comes the Bride Page 38
