Philip abruptly banged his glass down onto a nearby bookshelf. “She should be terrified by now. Any young maiden with the least sensibilities would have realized how dangerous her position is and have fled to the safety of her guardian.”
“So why hasn’t she?”
Philip breathed out a harsh sigh. “She clearly believes she is capable of overcoming any situation.”
That mysterious smile returned to Pudding’s lips. “Perhaps she is.”
“You are determined to end up her groom,” he threatened.
“Not I.”
Philip shook his head. “I have all but ravished her, and still she refuses to accept the truth.”
“Clearly she feels being forced into marriage worse than being ravished.”
“Nonsense,” Philip denied, without allowing himself to give thought to Pudding’s accusation. “Every young maiden dreams of acquiring a husband. She is merely so determined to flaunt my authority, it has blinded her.”
“You two seem well matched.”
“What does that mean?”
Pudding slowly sipped his brandy, carefully noting the color that came and went in Philip’s thin face. “It seems that your own determination to force your will upon Miss Lowe has blinded you to all but your need to win.”
Philip stiffened at the accusation. “It is her father’s will, not mine. He entrusted her to my care. Do you suppose he would wish for me to allow her to become a mere servant?”
“No,” Pudding conceded, although that devious twinkle never left his eyes. “No doubt he would wish her to be properly wed.”
Philip unconsciously clenched his fists. The flare of distaste for handing her over to another only hardened his determination. The sooner he was free of Miss Bella Lowe the better. “And that is precisely what I intend to see occur.”
“What will you do?”
Philip frowned. “For the moment I will continue with my plan.”
“If it continues to fail?”
“I will tie her in a sack and drag her up the aisle,” Philip responded bluntly.
Pudding gave a sharp laugh. “That I should love to see. No doubt the groom would be quite flattered to have his bride arrive in such a fashion.”
Philip’s thoughts turned to Andre LeMont and then naturally to his dragon of a mother. His features twisted into a grimace. “It might frighten LeMont, but it would not disturb his mother. She would personally force Miss Lowe down the aisle if it ensured she would receive her settlement.” His lips twisted. “Although, I must admit that while I initially felt a measure of pity for Miss Lowe to be saddled with such a relative as Madam LeMont, I begin to suspect that she will have the harridan cowed within a month.”
Something in his tone had Pudding regarding him with a probing gaze. “Has something occurred that you are not sharing?”
Philip abruptly turned from that knowing gaze, uncomfortably aware that a guilty flush was staining his cheeks. “Nothing beyond the fact that I am anxious to return to London and Miss Ravel. She at least knows how to be with a gentleman without attempting to drive him to Bedlam.”
* * *
Still behind the potted plant, Bella struggled to keep her shaking knees holding her upright. The shock that had held her in silent disbelief for the past several moments was slowly boiling to a fury she had never before experienced.
He knew. He had known all along.
The . . . lout.
He had somehow managed to track her to Surrey, and rather than confront her like a decent gentleman, he had instead devised this loathsome ploy to frighten her into marriage. Her hand pressed to her trembling lips as she recalled his suggestive words, his lingering touches, and those searing kisses.
Heaven above, he had made such a fool of her. Such a bloody fool.
Why hadn’t she suspected? Why hadn’t she realized that his arrival in Surrey was far too coincidental for mere chance?
With an effort, she blinked back the tears of fury and humiliation.
It was too late to regret her blind stupidity. Now, she had to concentrate on what to do.
Every part of her quivered with the need to march into the library and slap Lord Brasleigh’s arrogant face. But the knowledge that she would be letting him off all too easily kept her behind the plant.
Once he realized that she was aware of his horrid trick, he would no doubt haul her to London and down the aisle just as he had threatened. He would not even feel a twinge of remorse at his reprehensible behavior. No, she would obviously have to flee once again. But first . . . First she intended to teach Lord Brasleigh a severe lesson in playing her for a fool.
Long moments passed as she brooded upon the best means of exacting her revenge. Various plots were considered and dismissed; then at last a notion so simple and yet so daring slowly bloomed in the depths of her mind.
What better means of punishment than to neatly turn the tables on him? He hoped to frighten her into submission with his blatant seduction. What if, instead, she pretended to fall madly in love with him? He would be the one who would appear the fool and hopefully spend a few sleepless nights. After that . . . Well, she would worry about fleeing after she had assured herself that Lord Brasleigh was properly punished.
Squaring her shoulders, she stepped from behind the plant, intending to mount the stairs and return to her chambers. She had completely dismissed the reason she had come downstairs in the first place. But she had barely taken two steps when Mary abruptly appeared. “Mrs. Smith, Lady Stenhold is still awaiting you in the drawing room.”
Bella swallowed a sigh of exasperation. Of course. How could she have forgotten poor Lady Stenhold? Her plan would have to wait for now. “Thank you, Mary.”
Doing her best to calm her tangled emotions, Bella made her way to the drawing room. Her efforts, however, were not wholly successful as Lady Stenhold watched her enter the crimson-and-gold room with raised brows. “Oh, Anna . . . Are you not well?”
Bella forced a stiff smile. “I am fine.”
“You appear flushed.”
She gave the first lie that came to mind. “I rather hurried down the stairs.”
Lady Stenhold leaned forward, clearly not convinced. “Are you sure it is nothing else?”
Bella suppressed a hysterical urge to laugh. What would the older woman say if she knew that Lord Brasleigh had come to Surrey to terrify his own ward into marriage? And that she was now prepared to pretend that she was in love with a gentleman that she detested above all others? No doubt she would have the lot of them tossed from her home.
“What do you mean?”
“Lord Brasleigh has not been troubling you?”
“No . . .” Bella gave a shake of her head, desperately hoping that Mary had not confided her suspicions to her mistress. At the moment, she wanted nothing interfering with her plans. “Not at all.”
“Are you certain?”
“Quite certain.”
There was a short pause. “Very well.”
“Did you wish to see me?” Bella hurried to change the subject.
“Yes. I was just thinking that as long as we have guests, we should offer some sort of entertainment.”
It was not at all what Bella had been expecting. “Oh?”
“I was thinking we might arrange a ball.”
Bella’s heart sank. The last thing she wished was to be surrounded by hundreds of guests. Especially when there was always the remote possibility she might be recognized. “Really?”
Lady Stenhold appeared taken aback by her decided lack of enthusiasm. “Does the idea not please you?”
A stab of guilt pierced Bella’s heart at the older woman’s barely hidden disappointment. “It is hardly my concern,” she murmured.
“Of course it is. You are a guest in this house,” Lady Stenhold insisted. “If the thought of frivolity is disturbing, then I will certainly not pursue the notion.”
“That is very kind, but I could not possibly intrude upon your entertainments,” Bella desperately urged.
“I shall be quite happy to remain in my chambers during the ball.”
Lady Stenhold frowned. “Absurd.”
“But . . .”
“If you will not attend the ball, then I shall simply not arrange it.”
Bella gazed at the face that had become so dear to her, before slowly giving a wry shake of her head. The lady was an expert at getting her way with her gentle insistence. “Then I shall be happy to join you.”
Lady Stenhold beamed with satisfaction. “Excellent. I shall begin making the arrangements at once. Of course, I must warn you that it will be nothing elaborate. Just a few neighbors and friends.”
“I am certain it will be lovely.” Realizing that the older woman had accomplished what she wished, Bella prepared to make her escape. The upcoming ball would be a worry for another day. At the moment, she had more than enough troubles upon her plate. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a few matters to attend to.”
Seven
There appeared to be an inordinate amount of white skin.
Leaning forward, Bella regarded her plunging neckline in the mirror with a decided flare of unease. It was one thing to request her maid to alter the numerous gowns that Lady Stenhold had insisted upon giving her. It was quite another to actually appear downstairs attired as a . . . a common courtesan.
Stop it, Bella Lowe, she scolded herself. The rose-patterned French silk was certainly more daring and sophisticated than she was accustomed to wearing. And her maid had been unfortunately enthusiastic in lowering the neckline. But there was nothing precisely indecent about the gown. Indeed, there was no doubt that if she were in London, her attire would not even raise a brow.
Besides, her gown was the least of her concerns, she reminded herself sternly. She should be concentrating on how best to begin her campaign against Lord Brasleigh, not worrying over the decided draft in the front of her dress.
With an effort, she turned her thoughts to the problem at hand. It would be difficult, she had already conceded. She would have to be subtle enough not to alert Lord Brasleigh that she had discovered the truth, and yet bold enough to make him squirm. Hardly an easy task for a woman who knew as much about gentlemen as she knew about the strange creatures that swam in the depths of the ocean.
Giving a slight shake of her head, Bella forced herself to square her shoulders and take a deep breath. Ready or not, it was time to make her appearance downstairs. With considerable effort, she crossed toward the door of her chamber and stepped into the hall. It took another moment to conjure the nerve to make her way to the staircase and down to the main floor.
Entering the lower hall, Bella headed toward the front drawing room only to come to a halt as she caught sight of the raven-haired gentleman in the library. Seated in a wing chair, Lord Brasleigh was busily studying the large book laid open on his lap. Her gaze narrowed as she studied his chiseled profile before moving down to the fitted emerald coat and silver waistcoat.
An odd tremor raced through her body as she reluctantly acknowledged that he was a handsome devil. Far more handsome than any other gentleman she had ever encountered.
Not that being handsome and far too practiced in seducing women in any way compensated for his wretched behavior, she assured herself. No gentleman could be so handsome or charming as to compensate for that.
Sending up a swift prayer that her courage did not fail her, Bella determinedly stepped into the room, pretending to come to a surprised halt as Lord Brasleigh politely rose to his feet.
“Oh . . . Lord Brasleigh.” She batted her lashes in his direction.
Just for a moment his gaze skimmed over her altered gown, lingering on the plunging neckline far too long for comfort. Bella stifled the urge to cover herself with her hands. Then surprisingly, a flare of color touched his high cheekbones, and an unreadable expression descended upon his elegant features. “Mrs. Smith, please join me.”
“Oh, I do not wish to intrude.”
That practiced smile curved his lips. “You are quite aware that I treasure our moments together.”
Treasure? Fah. He could not wait to unload her on the first witless buffoon who would take a bride. “Absurd man.” She gave a shrill giggle. “I simply wished to find a book to read.”
He gave a startled blink at her antics. “Perhaps I could help?”
“I do not know. What would you suggest?”
“Something that stirs a young lady’s blood?” He slipped into character as his voice lowered to a husky pitch. “Romeo and Juliet, or perhaps Anthony and Cleopatra?”
“Ill-fated love, my lord?” she asked in coy tones.
“Love that was willing to set aside the restrictions of society. That is true passion.”
She once again batted her lashes, feeling like the veriest fool. How did any maiden enjoy behaving in such a ridiculous manner? “A pity that it so often ends in tragedy.”
“Not always.” He moved closer, but there was a decidedly wary glint in his eyes. “We could prove that passion has its share of happy endings.”
She felt a flare of wry humor as she recalled his earlier complaints that he was desperate to return to ladies who did not drive him batty. She would show him just how batty she could drive him.
She widened her eyes and gave a faint pout. “But surely you are anxious to return to London?”
“No more anxious than I am to hold you in my arms,” he smoothly lied.
She watched as his gaze narrowed, no doubt awaiting her furious set down to his bold words. Instead, Bella glanced up at him through tangled lashes. “You would remain for me?”
A gathering frown tugged at his brows at her breathless words. “But, of course.”
“What of your mistress in London?”
“What is she to us?”
Bella leaned deliberately forward. “Is she very beautiful?”
His gaze skimmed over her pale countenance before dipping with seeming fascination to her neckline. “Not as beautiful as you.”
Bella resisted the urge to bat him on the nose with her fan. Hadn’t she requested her bodice to be lowered for precisely this purpose? “You think me beautiful?”
His gaze slowly rose to closely scrutinize her set features. “Of course. What gentleman would not find you breathtaking? Hair as brilliant as gold, skin as rich as cream, and lips that beg for a man’s kiss!”
Until this morning she would have blushed with embarrassment at his deliberately provocative words. Now she summoned a brilliant smile and tapped his chest with her fan. “Oh, sir. You always seem to know precisely what to say.”
His frown deepened at her odd behavior. Reaching up, he grasped her slender wrist and raised it to study the lacy concoction in her hand. “I see you have my fan.”
She did not tell him that she had scoured the garden until she found where she had tossed it. “Yes. I fear that I never did properly thank you.”
“No,” he retorted in dry tones. “You did everything but throw it back in my face.”
She could hardly deny the truth of his accusation, so she heaved a faint sigh. “Yes. Very ungracious of me.”
Dropping her wrist, Lord Brasleigh regarded her for a long, silent moment. “Are you quite well, Mrs. Smith?”
“But, of course. Why do you ask?”
Her seeming innocence did nothing to ease the suspicion carved into his handsome countenance. “Until this moment there has always been a distinct frost in the air when I was near. Now . . . Something seems different.”
Bella knew that she would have to be careful. She wanted to prolong his suffering as long as possible. “Perhaps I have realized that I was behaving rather foolishly.”
“Oh?” Something flashed deep in his silver eyes.
A thrill of power raced through her as she stepped closer to his large frame. “You must understand that it has been quite some time since a gentleman has revealed an interest in me.”
She sensed him stiffening at her soft words. “I find that difficult to believe.”
“I have always lived quietly,” she pointed out. She had to have some excuse for supposedly desiring a gentleman who had treated her with such a shocking lack of respect. “There have been few opportunities to meet gentlemen. I must admit that you frightened me.”
A guarded expression descended upon his dark features. “That was not my intention.”
Liar, Bella inwardly seethed. That was precisely his intention. “I suppose you must think me very missish.”
He regarded her for another long moment. “I am uncertain what to think,” he admitted slowly.
Bella gave a flutter of her fan, but before she could utter a word, the decidedly plump form of Lord Blackmar entered the room. Bella instinctively stepped away from Lord Brasleigh as she regarded the intruder attired in a shocking yellow coat.
“Hi, ho, Bras.” Lord Blackmar turned toward Bella and offered her an elegant leg. “Mrs. Smith. Am I intruding?”
Lord Brasleigh’s familiar mocking expression returned. “Would it matter?”
Lord Blackmar smiled in a lazy fashion. “Not at all. How charming you look this evening, Mrs. Smith.”
Although Lord Blackmar was as elegant and sophisticated as Lord Brasleigh, Bella felt none of the prickly unease she felt in her guardian’s presence. Indeed, if he were not in devious companionship with Lord Brasleigh, she might even have enjoyed his sharp wit. “Thank you, Lord Blackmar. And you are as brilliant as ever.”
Lord Blackmar chuckled as he glanced down at his yellow attire. “My little joke upon society, Mrs. Smith.”
“Oh?”
He shrugged. “I have always known that I could never cut a dash such as Brasleigh or Challmond or Wickton. So I devised a means of creating my own stir among the ton. If I could not be irresistible, then I would be remarkable.”
Bella could not help but smile at his blunt revelation. It was true he could never claim the potent appeal of Lord Brasleigh, but he was obviously wise enough to realize that the bored ton would be intrigued with his audacious manner. “Very clever.”
“Yes, well, I am a rather clever bloke,” he informed her with a wicked smile. “As you would know if Bras were not so beastly selfish as to devour the lion’s share of your time.”
Here Comes the Bride Page 39
