Here Comes the Bride

by Alexandra Ivy

  Lord Brasleigh smoothly moved closer to Bella, his smile dry. “I have no desire to be cut out by a notorious rogue.”

  “Notorious?” Lord Blackmar protested.

  “I urge you, Mrs. Smith, to avoid the attentions of Lord Blackmar with assiduous care. The streets of London are littered with the broken hearts of ladies he has loved and cast aside.”

  Lord Blackmar gave a loud snort, his lips twitching. “I fear you have me quite mistaken with some other rogue, Bras,” he retorted in pointed tones.

  “Nonsense.” Lord Brasleigh lifted his raven brows. “Should you not be with your aunt in the drawing room?”

  “She is not down yet, and I was seeking a bit of entertainment.”

  “You shall have to seek your entertainment elsewhere,” Lord Brasleigh informed him in tart tones.

  Lord Blackmar merely smiled. “But I am enjoying my entertainment here.”

  Lord Brasleigh stepped forward. “Elsewhere.”

  The two gentlemen regarded each other in silence for a long moment; then a mysterious smile suddenly curved Lord Blackmar’s lips. “Be at ease, Bras. I am going.” He turned to bow toward the silent Bella. “Until later, my dear.”

  Watching until the gentleman sauntered from the room, Bella slowly turned to regard Lord Brasleigh with a wide-eyed gaze. “You were very abrupt with your friend.”

  “He was being a nuisance.” Lord Brasleigh dismissed his friend with a wave of his hand; then with obvious effort, he summoned a seductive smile. Bella felt a tingle of anticipation as she prepared to resume their game.

  “Now, I believe we were about to choose a book?”

  She ducked her head in a shy motion. “Do you not think that we should see if Lady Stenhold is down?”

  “She will be adequately entertained by Lord Blackmar.”

  “I am her companion,” she reminded him.

  A slender finger reached out to brush her jaw. In spite of herself, Bella felt a tingle of heat rush through her body.

  “I have offered to make you mine.”

  With an effort, Bella ignored her traitorous reaction to his touch. “A most improper suggestion, my lord.”

  “Perhaps, but a delicious one, nonetheless.”

  “This is all so”—she allowed herself a breathless pause—“so sudden.” Peeking from beneath her lashes, Bella watched his gaze narrow.

  “Hardly sudden.”

  “A woman needs time to consider her feelings.” She felt his body tense at her deliberate words.

  “Indeed?”

  “Oh, yes.” She gave a toss of her head just as she had witnessed by countless other maidens. At the same moment she wondered if she appeared more like a mare with a bur beneath her saddle than a bewitching flirt. “I would never be with a gentleman for whom I did not care a great deal.”

  The wariness that had been simmering in his eyes deepened to a barely concealed alarm. “This is not about caring for each other,” he cautiously backtracked.

  Bella was swift to press her advantage. “But, of course it is. How could it be otherwise?”

  He took a step away, his brow furrowed together. “Mrs. Smith . . .”

  “Yes, Philip?”

  He carefully considered his words. For once his arrogance appeared to be in danger of slipping. “Are you attempting to imply that you have changed your mind?”

  Slowly, Bella, she silently warned herself. She did not wish to startle him into a confession. Not until he had endured a sleepless night or two. “I was merely speaking my thoughts out loud,” she coyly hedged. Then, as ifon cue, the sound of the dinner bell resounded through the house. Bella heaved an inward sigh of relief. It was not an easy task to play to role of a tart. “Oh, we must go.”

  Lord Brasleigh opened his mouth as if to protest, but clearly realizing it would be rude to hold up dinner, he stiffly held out his arm to escort her to the dining room. She felt him studying her profile, but she kept her gaze firmly averted, Let him stew over her peculiar behavior. Perhaps it would sour his dinner.

  They entered the dining room to discover that Lady Stenhold and Lord Blackmar were already seated at the long mahogany table. Lady Stenhold arched a silver brow as Lord Brasleigh escorted Bella to one of the gilt chairs and then took his own seat.

  “There you are,” she murmured. “I wondered if you would join us.”

  Bella struggled to maintain a cool composure beneath the older woman’s scrutiny. Lady Stenhold was far too shrewd for comfort. “Lord Brasleigh was kindly helping me to choose a book.”

  “Oh?” Lady Stenhold turned her piercing gaze in Lord Brasleigh’s direction. “And what did you select?”

  Although Bella suspected that Lady Stenhold could detect a faint hint of color on his high cheekbones, Lord Brasleigh appeared as arrogantly in command as ever.

  “We unfortunately were unable to decide among such a wealth of wonderful literature.”

  Although Lady Stenhold hesitated, as if debating whether or not to pursue their tardy entrance, she at last allowed herself to be distracted. “Oh, yes, Lord Stenhold was quite proud of his library.”

  “As he should be,” Lord Brasleigh complimented. “I quite envy his collection.”

  “Are you a great reader, then?” Lady Stenhold inquired as the servants placed the turtle soup before them.

  “I would not say great.”

  “Fah,” Lord Blackmar abruptly intruded, his expression mocking. “Bras was always a tedious scholar. When the rest of us would slip from our rooms for a bit of a lark, he could be found in his room hunched over some tomb beside a flickering candle.”

  Bella could not halt her surprised glance toward Lord Brasleigh. A scholar? Surely a person had to possess a questing soul and sensitivity to find delight in the love for books?

  Lord Brasleigh gave a faint shrug. “You make me sound quite dreary.”

  “I think it is quite commendable that you prefer studies to Richard’s notion of a lark,” Lady Stenhold commented. “I recall they had him sent down more than once. What do you think, Anna?”

  Abruptly realizing that all eyes were upon her, Bella hastily recalled her latest role. Not an easy task. Ward. Widow. Flirt. It was difficult to recall who she was to be at any given moment. The only thing she truly wanted was to be free.

  She turned to toss Lord Brasleigh a smile. “I have always greatly admired scholars,” she simpered.

  Lord Brasleigh gave a sudden cough as his wine became lodged in his throat. “You shall quite put me to the blush,” he managed to mutter.

  Perhaps sensing the unease in the air, Lady Stenhold took command of the conversation. “Then perhaps we should discuss the small gathering that I intend to hold here at Mayfield.”

  “A gathering!” Lord Blackmar cried, a wicked glint in his eyes. “What a delightful notion, eh, Bras?”

  “Delightful,” Lord Brasleigh dutifully agreed, although there was a decided lack of enthusiasm in his voice.

  “It will be the perfect opportunity to introduce you to the neighborhood,” Lady Stenhold stated firmly. “I will warn you that it shall be a most modest affair.”

  “No matter how modest, or how grand the event, Mrs. Smith is bound to be the most beautiful lady present, just as you, Aunt Caroline, shall be the most elegant,” Lord Blackmar proclaimed with lavish praise.

  “Very pretty, Richard,” Lady Stenhold retorted with a knowing smile. “Perhaps I shall give you a small token to hold you over until your next quarterly allowance, after all.”

  Lord Blackmar raised a dramatic hand to his heart. “I have always said that you are my dearest aunt.”

  Eight

  Seated at the table, Philip glanced through the morning paper while his breakfast grew cold on his plate. Not that he actually read any of the various tidings from Brussels or the current rumors surrounding the prince. Instead, his thoughts brooded upon his restless night.

  He did not like feeling as if a situation was slipping out of his control. He was a man who was a
lways in command of himself and those around him. He was a leader, not some bufflehead who was content to be a victim of fate.

  So why, then, did he feel as if he were suddenly sailing in decidedly treacherous waters?

  An unknowing frown tugged at his dark brows. It had all begun with that blasted kiss. It had only been meant to frighten the stubborn brat. Certainly he had never intended it to be a kiss of passion. But there was something . . .

  He abruptly shied away from the disturbing memories and instead moved to his latest troubles. Not that they were so different. They still centered upon one golden-haired minx.

  What the devil was she up to?

  He had been thoroughly caught off guard by her peculiar behavior last evening. She had seemed so . . . well, flirtatious, he had to concede. Which was absurd. Since his arrival, she had wavered between fear and fury at his presence. Not once had she regarded him as anything more than a threat to her secret.

  Then last night she had suddenly been laughing and batting her lashes like the veriest light skirt. It was disconcerting to say the least.

  So he had lain awake most of the night, attempting to convince himself that he had merely overreacted. Perhaps she feared that her violent dislike was making him suspicious. Or she presumed that she could begin to relax her guard since he would soon have no reason to linger. Or perhaps she had simply been in a giddy temperament.

  All reasonable explanations, but he could not thoroughly dismiss his lingering unease.

  Rattling his paper, he attempted to concentrate on the news from the Continent. It was silly to fret over nothing. He had just managed to focus his thoughts on the words before his eyes when the door was slowly pushed open. His momentary peace was instantly shattered as the slender form of Bella Lowe entered the room.

  As she had been the evening before, she was attired in a new gown. And as was her gown last evening, the soft primrose material was cut to reveal a most astonishing amount of white shoulders and deliciously enticing bosom. He felt a tingle of heat as his gaze instinctively studied the fascinating curves shown with such perfection.

  Good lord, he thought as he guiltily jerked his gaze back to her tiny face, he would ensure that her trousseau was considerably more modest in design. Poor LeMont would discover himself trampled beneath a bevy of love-struck fools if she were to appear in London attired in such a gown.

  Unfortunately, for the moment he was unable to command her to return to her room and change into one of her less revealing gowns. Even if it did make his role as the callous seducer a distinctly dangerous proposition.

  Telling himself he was being a fool, Philip laid aside his newspaper to regard Bella with a charming smile. “You are up early, my dear.”

  With a shrug, she drifted toward the table and took a seat close to his own. “It is too lovely a day to lay abed.”

  “I suppose you have a dozen errands that need your immediate attention,” he murmured, referring to her habit of darting away whenever he was near.

  Surprisingly, she gave a firm shake of her head. “No, indeed. I thought I would spend the day at Mayfield.”

  Philip swiftly told himself that she was no doubt exhausted from her ceaseless travels throughout the countryside. There couldn’t be a home within twenty miles that she had not visited on a dozen occasions over the past days.

  “My luck appears to be improving.” He poured her a cup of tea and then instinctively added the precise amount of sugar she preferred.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that I rarely see more ofyou than a brief glimpse at a distance. To think that I will have the pleasure of your companionship for the entire day seems the height of good fortune.”

  Something flickered in her dark eyes before her head dropped to hide her expression. “You have more charm than is good for you, my lord.”

  “I thought we had agreed to Philip?”

  “But the servants,” she protested in low tones.

  He reached across to grasp the slender hand lying in her lap. “Very well. Then let us go somewhere so that we can be alone, and you will feel free to call me Philip.”

  Expecting her to jerk her hand free, he was caught off guard as he felt her give a small tremor and peek at him from beneath impossibly long lashes.

  “Alone?”

  He unconsciously frowned. “Yes.”

  “Where could we possibly be alone?”

  “We could take a picnic to the woods.”

  “That does sound romantic,” she shocked him by saying with a bat of those lashes. “It has been a long time since I enjoyed a picnic.”

  Philip could not have been more shocked if she had stripped off her gown and danced naked on the table. The unease that had plagued him all night returned with a vengeance. “So you will go?”

  A smile curved her full lips. “You appear surprised.”

  “Well, you must admit that you have offered little encouragement since my arrival.”

  “I was shocked by your bold advances,” she informed him softly. “I am a lady, after all.”

  “And now?”

  Her head slowly lifted. “And now I must admit I am somewhat intrigued. You are a most persuasive gentleman.”

  The flattering words did nothing to ease his growing dismay. Intrigued? That was the last thing he wished. “I thought I was no gentleman,” he reminded her.

  She gave a tiny giggle. “Shame on you, sir, for remembering my unkind words.”

  His gaze narrowed. “I could hardly forget them.”

  Pulling her hand free, she took a sip of her tea. “I must admit I was frightened.”

  “Of me?”

  “I have never met anyone like you,” she simpered.

  “I assure you that the feeling is entirely mutual.” His own tones were dry.

  She clearly took his words as a compliment. “Oh, I fear I am quite common.”

  Philip couldn’t halt the sharp laugh. He had met dozens and dozens of women. Some beautiful, some intelligent, and some blessed with a tangible charm. But never had he encountered a female who could keep his life in constant turmoil. “No, there is nothing common about you, Mrs. Smith,” he assured her.

  Again she gave that uncharacteristic giggle. “There, you see, you always know how to make a lady feel special. I suppose you are very experienced?”

  A ridiculous heat crawled beneath his skin at the sudden question. “Experienced?”

  “With women.”

  It was hardly a subject he wished to discuss with his ward. Or any innocent maiden for that matter. “No more so than any other gentleman of my advanced years,” he retorted in repressive tones.

  Her eyes widened. “I am sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

  “I am not in the habit of discussing my private affairs.”

  She appeared to sense his discomfort. “I merely meant that you seem very practiced at this sort of thing.”

  With an effort, Philip attempted to regain command of the situation. “Clearly not practiced enough,” he said smoothly. “You have appeared remarkably immune.”

  She shrugged. “As I said, I was frightened.”

  “There is no need to be frightened.”

  She set aside her tea and leaned toward him, in the process, making him uncomfortably conscious of her indecent neckline. “No. I am beginning to realize that.”

  His heart skipped a sudden beat. “You are?”

  “Yes, indeed.” She leaned even closer. Blast. How was he to concentrate on her peculiar behavior when his vision was filled with such temptation? “I have tried to convince myself that it is wrong to succumb to your flirtations, but it is a battle I fear I am losing.”

  Desperately, he forced himself to forget the delectable curves and instead contemplate his brewing troubles. “Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is very sudden.”

  “Oh, no, not sudden at all,” she protested, seemingly unable to recall her fierce dislike since his arrival. “I have realize
d since you came to Mayfield that you are a very attractive gentleman.”

  “I . . . see.”

  “Of course, I am not so shallow as to only consider a gentleman’s countenance and fine form.”

  He was almost afraid to inquire further. “No?”

  She gave a decisive shake of her head. “No. I have been very moved by your kindness to Miss Summers.”

  “I do not see why. She is very easy to be kind to.”

  “But no other gentleman has ever made the effort,” Bella persisted. “She is quite changed since your arrival.”

  Philip inwardly cursed his instinctive sympathy for the vicar’s daughter. He had never been able to resist the plight of those too weak or too frightened to defend themselves. And the sight of the timid Miss Summers being bullied by her beastly father had been tailored to tug at his heart. It had never occurred to him that his impulsive kindness would make an impression upon Bella. Now he realized he would have to nip any foolish fantasies in the bud.

  “I hope, my dear, that you are not casting me in the role of the noble gentleman,” he warned. “I fear that it really will not fit.”

  She appeared remarkably unaffected by his words. “You are far too modest, sir.”

  He gave a sudden snort. “I have never been accused of that before.”

  She pouted her lips in a manner that drew attention to their satin softness. A softness that he knew with intimate familiarity.

  “Perhaps because you take such care to hide your kind heart.”

  He pulled away, determined to convince her that he was reprehensible beyond measure, only to be interrupted as Lady Stenhold entered the room attired in a moss-green morning gown.

  “Good morning.” She regarded her guests with a slow smile.

  “Lady Stenhold.” Philip rose to his feet and offered the older lady a chair. She gracefully took her seat in a cloud of rose fragrance.

  “You two are up and about very early this morning.”

  “Lord Brasleigh has requested that I join him for a picnic this afternoon,” Bella blurted out in bright tones.

  Not surprisingly, Lady Stenhold turned her head to regard Philip with raised brows. “Has he?”

  “Unless you need me to help with the arrangements for the ball?” Bella generously offered.