Here Comes the Bride

by Alexandra Ivy

She shuddered at the mere thought. Although he was no doubt a master in the art of seduction—her own reluctant reaction to him was proof of that—she was quite certain that he would always be in stern control of the relationship and his own emotions. Unlike her, he was not an impetuous, deeply emotional sort. Unless, of course, one had managed to pierce his armor and enter his heart, a renegade voice murmured in the back of her mind. Clearly, he was fiercely loyal and dedicated to his mother and friends.

  She shoved her nonsensical thoughts aside. It was nothing to her how he might treat his loved ones or his lovers. Her only concern was how despicably he treated his ward.

  “My life will be my own as your mistress. Something that would never occur as your wife.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw as he realized that he could not argue with her logic. “And when I tire of you?”

  She refused to be daunted. How delightful it was to see him struggle with his rising panic. “Then I shall no longer be your concern.”

  A silence fell at her simple words. In the distance, the sound of chirping birds could be heard, and closer the occasional rustle of a small animal in the underbrush.

  It was clear that Lord Brasleigh noted none of this as he slowly shook his head. “It appears that you have quite made up your mind.”

  “I fear that you have changed yours,” she challenged.

  His mouth thinned as he decided to give his ploy one last desperate try. “I just wished to be assured there were no misunderstandings. It can make it very awkward when I choose a new mistress.”

  With a very deliberate motion, Bella leaned forward. “Perhaps you will never wish to possess another mistress.”

  His gaze lowered to her full lips before abruptly being wrenched back to her wide eyes. “That is hardly likely.”

  Now was the moment, and Bella discovered herself absurdly grateful that the champagne still flowed through her veins. It would take every ounce of her courage to finish her revenge.

  Scooting forward, she lifted a hand to cup his cheek. “I will make you very happy.”

  She felt the tremor of shock race through his body at her bold touch. “No doubt . . .” His voice came to a choked halt as her fingers drifted over his firm lips. “Mrs. Smith.”

  “Yes?” she murmured.

  His hands lifted to grasp her roaming fingers. “Please stop.”

  In response, Bella scooted even closer, her soft frame pressed to his side. “Have I done something wrong?”

  He sucked in an audible breath, his hand clenching her fingers in a painful grip. “No, there is something I must tell you.”

  “You can tell me later.” With more daring that she would ever have thought she possessed, she moved until her lips pressed the line of his jaw. A blaze of heat flared through her body at the intimate contact, and she was deeply relieved when he pulled away sharply.

  It was indecent that a gentleman she did not even like should make her heart pound and her stomach quiver in such a fashion.

  “No.” His voice was barely recognizable.

  She pretended to be hurt at his rejection. “But, my lord, this is what you wished.”

  “No, it is not.”

  “But . . .” Determined to force him to confess his treachery, Bella was compelled to curb her impatience as the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the trees. “Someone is coming.”

  With none of his usual grace, Lord Brasleigh thrust himself to his feet. Far more slowly, Bella rose as well.

  Within moments a young footman pushed his way into the clearing. “My lord, Lady Stenhold asked me to find you.”

  “Has something occurred?” Lord Brasleigh demanded.

  “You have guests at Mayfield who wish to see you.”

  “Guests? Who are they?”

  “I fear I do not know, my lord.”

  Lord Brasleigh slanted a mystified glance toward Bella before returning his attention to the servant. “We shall be there in a moment.”

  The footman gave a bow. “Very good, my lord.”

  Waiting until they were once again alone, Lord Brasleigh turned to regard her with a set expression. “We must go,” he reluctantly conceded. “But I have need to speak with you as soon as possible.”

  She allowed a slow smile to curve her lips. “But, of course, my lord. I eagerly await our conversation.”

  Ten

  Feeling a flare of exasperation at the intrusion, Philip efficiently packed away the remains of the picnic and folded the blanket. At his side, he was disturbingly aware of Bella as she gathered her golden curls and pulled them back into a tidy knot.

  A tremor shook his body. Heaven above, his blood had turned to flames when those curls had tumbled about her bare shoulders. He wanted to forget that she was his ward, that she was as innocent as a babe, and that he would soon be handing her to Monsieur LeMont. He wished only to pull her into his arms and rid himself of the growing ache that kept him awake during the long nights.

  The image of her laid upon the blanket while he . . .

  No. Abruptly shaking his head, he thrust the reprehensible thoughts away.

  It was time for the game to end. Past time, he acknowledged as he recalled the maiden’s fervent desire to become his mistress.

  It had clearly been an absurd notion to begin with. Nothing had gone as it should. Bella was no closer to accepting her marriage to Monsieur LeMont. And he . . . He was behaving as if he had never before encountered an attractive female.

  He should have remained in London and forgotten he had ever possessed a bloody ward. At least then he would not be plagued by his strangely unpredictable emotions.

  Holding aside the branches, Philip waited for Bella to step onto the path before joining her. Then, with a great deal of reluctance, he held out his arm and escorted her back toward the house. He gave little thought to his mysterious guests. Instead, he brooded upon the best means of informing Miss Lowe that, far from desiring an affair with a young widow, he knew precisely who she was and had merely plotted to frighten her into marriage.

  She would be furious, of course. Not only would she be embarrassed by her shocking lack of modesty, but she was about to discover her absurd flight had not saved her from his control.

  Oh, yes, she would be furious indeed.

  In silence, they left the woods and crossed the scythed lawn to enter the house. With a sideways glance, Miss Lowe at last spoke. “Were you expecting guests, my lord?”

  “Not at all.” He handed the basket and blanket to a hovering footman. His hat and gloves he placed on a side table. “I know very few people in the area.”

  “Perhaps it is someone who is simply traveling through Surrey.”

  “Perhaps.” He did not care who it might be, as long as they possessed the sense to keep the visit brief.

  They had taken only a few steps down the hallway when the door to the drawing room was pulled open and Lady Stenhold moved to greet them. “There you are, my lord.”

  “Lady Stenhold.”

  “I apologize for intruding upon your picnic, but I thought you would like to know that you have visitors.”

  “Of course.”

  With a nod, Lady Stenhold turned to head further along the hallway, clearly allowing him a measure of privacy with his callers.

  Keeping Bella at his side, Philip entered the room. Just for a moment, he regarded the large, horse-faced matron and the slender, dark-haired gentleman seated upon the sofa with a flare of annoyance. They were clearly of the mushroom variety, who believed that they could be introduced to a gentleman and then promptly claim friendship with him. In London, he was besieged by such vulgar upstarts, but he had not expected to be harassed in such a remote location. Then, as the young man slowly rose to his feet, Philip felt as if he had been slugged in the stomach.

  Good gads! Madam LeMont and her son Andre. How could they possibly be here? He had left them in London to await his return. He certainly had not revealed where he was going. And now he was in a true muddl
e.

  Good lord, could the day get any worse?

  Seemingly undisturbed by the fact that she had intruded upon a private gathering, Madam LeMont smiled in a smug fashion. “My dear Lord Brasleigh,” she gushed, her broad frame hideously encased in a puce gown with a profusion of ribbons. “How utterly wonderful to see you again.”

  A fine shiver of distaste raced through his body even as he gave a stiff bow. “Madam LeMont.”

  The woman gave a grating laugh. “We have surprised you, have we not?”

  His lips twisted. Surprise was not precisely the word he would have used. “Yes.”

  Clearly more perceptive than his mother, Andre sensed Philip’s lack of enthusiasm. A slender young man with delicate features and large brown eyes, he possessed a sensitivity that was overtly lacking in his mother.

  “I warned you, Mother, that we should not simply descend upon his lordship,” he said in low tones.

  “Nonsense.” Madam LeMont waved a pudgy hand. “Lord Brasleigh is almost family. Surely there is no need to stand upon ceremony. Is there, my lord?”

  Directly confronted, Philip could hardly claim that she was as welcome as the plague. Still . . . almost family? What a ghastly notion. “Of course not,” he lied smoothly. “But I did not realize that you intended to visit Surrey.”

  “London was terribly flat without you, and when we learned that you had traveled to the country, we decided to follow.”

  Philip was not deceived. He had no doubt the greedy woman had followed him out of fear he might change his mind and offer his generous dowry to another. “I see.”

  “Of course, we hoped that you would have brought your lovely ward along with you.” She came directly to the point. “Andre is most anxious to meet her.”

  Philip grimaced. The moment had come, and he could only shudder at the thought of Bella’s reaction. “Oh . . . yes.”

  Andre shifted his feet in embarrassment. “Mother, I really believe it would be best if we went to the inn and returned to London in the morning.”

  His suggestion was rewarded by an impatient glare from his mother. “Andre, please allow me to handle the situation. I cannot imagine Lord Brasleigh would wish us to hurry away when we have just arrived.”

  They couldn’t hurry away fast enough as far as Philip was concerned, but he could only smile thinly. “Certainly not.”

  Madam LeMont smiled in a triumphant manner. “There, you see?”

  “Of course, I am merely a guest of Lady Stenhold’s,” he was swift to point out.

  “Lady Stenhold has already kindly issued a most generous invitation to remain at Mayfield as long as we wish,” Madam LeMont said, squashing his faint hope. “Such a lovely lady.”

  “Yes, she is,” Philip agreed, although he was not so kindly disposed toward his hostess at the moment.

  “But we have not yet met your companion.” Madam LeMont glanced pointedly toward the silent Bella.

  Wishing himself back on Napoleon’s battlefield, Philip turned toward the maiden at his side. “Forgive me. May I introduce my ward, Miss Lowe? Bella, this is Madam LeMont and her son, Monsieur LeMont.”

  Expecting stunned disbelief at the realization that he knew precisely who she was, Philip was baffled as Bella smiled with an icy composure. “How do you do?”

  Predictably unaware of the tension in the air, Madam LeMont glanced toward her son. “There, did I not assure you that she would be charming, Andre?”

  “She is, indeed.” An engaging smile lit his thin face as Andre moved to raise Bella’s fingers to his lips. “It is a delight, Miss Lowe.”

  “Thank you,” Bella retorted in meek tones.

  Philip’s disbelief only deepened. She was behaving as if nothing on earth was amiss. She was even allowing her hand to remain in the clinging grasp of that . . . overly forward puppy.

  Blast! Nothing appeared to make sense.

  “Such a charming couple, do you not think, my lord?” Madam LeMont said in coy tones.

  “Yes,” Philip agreed abruptly, although he did not particularly care for Andre’s lingering touch. For goodness’ sakes, they had just met.

  “I must warn you, my lord, that Andre has become a great favorite among the ladies,” the older woman informed him.

  “Has he?”

  “Mother,” Andre protested as he at last stepped from Bella.

  “Oh, yes. There was more than one tear shed when it was learned that he would soon wed.”

  A hint of color washed Andre’s countenance. “Miss Lowe cannot be interested in such absurd nonsense.”

  “I merely wished her to realize what a fortunate young maiden she is.”

  “She should be allowed to be the judge of that,” Andre said stiffly.

  Madam LeMont gave another grating laugh. “You are always so modest. Lord Brasleigh obviously considered you a most distinguished gentleman. Why else would he have chosen you for his ward?”

  “Oh, yes,” Bella suddenly spoke, casting a daggerlike glance toward Philip. “Lord Brasleigh has always been quite conscientious in his concern for me. He would do whatever necessary to ensure my happiness.”

  Her thrust hit home, and Philip took an impetuous step in her direction. “Bella.”

  “Yes . . . my lord?”

  “Could I have a moment alone with you?”

  She arched a golden brow. “And leave your guests?”

  “I am certain they will excuse us for a moment.”

  She gave an indifferent shrug. “Perhaps later. I really should change for dinner.” She turned to favor Andre with a sweet smile. “Excuse me.”

  Sweeping from the room, she ignored his outstretched hand. Philip was not to be put off so easily. Disregarding his ill manners, he muttered a low apology and charged in her wake.

  He wanted to know precisely what the unruly chit was thinking, and more precisely what she intended to do. He had no desire to wake in the morning and discover that she had taken flight in the middle of the night.

  As swift as he had been, he still did not manage to catch Bella until she was entering her chamber. Without regard to propriety, he followed behind her and firmly closed the door. “Bella.”

  She turned abruptly, her dark eyes blazing. “Yes, my lord?”

  “I must speak with you.”

  “I said we could speak later.”

  His expression hardened. “Now.”

  Her hands clenched at her sides. “Is it not enough that you bully and threaten me, my lord? Must you also invade my very privacy?”

  He refused to be swayed.. “It appears that our game is at an end.”

  “It most certainly is.”

  He studied her set features. “You appear remarkably calm.”

  “Would you prefer that I toss a few of these lovely figurines at your arrogant head?” she demanded. “Believe me, few things would give me more pleasure.”

  He did not doubt for a moment that she would love to decorate his head with the fragile ornaments. “I realize you must be embarrassed—” he said, attempting to sympathize, only to be halted as she took a sharp step forward.

  “Embarrassed? Why in heaven’s name would I be embarrassed? You are the one who has behaved in a shameful manner.”

  A faint heat touched his cheekbones. Why, the annoying brat. Trust her to somehow blame him for the fiasco. “Perhaps you have forgotten what occurred between us in the woods this afternoon, but I assure you that I have not,” he said in stiff tones.

  Far from being humiliated at the reminder of her disreputable behavior, she merely smiled. “Certainly I have not forgotten. It went precisely according to my plan.”

  Philip slowly froze. “Plan?”

  “My plan to teach you a well-deserved lesson in treating me as a fool,” she informed him in cold tones. “I am well aware that you came to Mayfield to frighten me into marriage.”

  There was a shattering pause before Philip was giving a disbelieving shake of his head. “How could you know?”

  “You
are not nearly so clever as you believe, my lord.”

  Obviously not, he acknowledged, as he struggled to accept what she was saying. She had known that he never believed her to be a widow. All her claims of wishing to be his mistress were no more than a charade. It seemed impossible. Absurd.

  “Lord Blackmar would not have told you,” he muttered.

  “It hardly matters how I know.”

  “No,” he agreed, his lips thinning at the realization that he was the one who had been duped. A most uncommon occurrence. Indeed, he could not recall it ever happening before. “Nor does it excuse your behavior.”

  Her eyes widened in fury. “You, sir . . .” Words failed her for a brief moment. “My behavior is above reproach in comparison to your own.”

  “Above reproach?” He gave a sharp laugh. “You must have taken leave of your senses. Never in all my life have I encountered a lady who is so lacking in maidenly sensibilities and modesty.”

  She glared at him with open distaste. “And you have known many ladies, have you not, my lord?”

  Damn the brat, he seethed. Her tongue was as sharp as a saber. “We are not discussing me, Miss Lowe. We are discussing you and your determination to behave as an unruly hoyden.”

  Her hands landed upon her hips in an aggressive stance. “Why? Because I did not wish to be hauled down the aisle and married off to a complete stranger?”

  “Because you have been intolerable from the moment you became my ward,” he snapped, goaded beyond all bearing. “I was perfectly content to allow you to remain at my estate with a suitable companion, but you proved that you could not be trusted. Not only did you make my entire staff miserable with your unforgivable behavior, but you managed to run off every decent companion I could find.”

  “Companions?” She gave a laugh of her own. “Did you ever once personally meet my delightful companions?”

  He ignored the tiny prick of guilt. He had more than done his duty to this impossible woman. “I could hardly be expected to personally interview every staff member,” he informed her in lofty tones. “I did, however, ensure that each and every one had impeccable references.”

  Her expression was mocking. “Oh, yes, why should you be bothered to actually meet with the women I was forced to live with day after day?”