Here Comes the Bride

by Alexandra Ivy

  He drew in a deep breath, ignoring the faint scent of lavender in the air. He did not need the distraction of realizing they were very much alone in her chamber. Or that within a few steps he could have her off her feet and onto the wide bed. “They were all highly recommended.”

  “Perhaps they were, but I assure you they were impossible to endure.”

  “Why? Because they expected you to behave in a manner befitting a young maiden?”

  “Because they were incompetent fools.”

  He regarded her with scathing disbelief. “Absurd.”

  Bella’s tiny face flushed with a dark heat at his implication that she was not being entirely truthful. Raising her hand she held up one finger. “The first supposed companion was a mean-spirited dragon who threatened to have my puppies drowned in the lake.” She lifted a second finger. “The next proved to possess a violent tendre for the local vicar and eventually fled when he chose to marry a maiden younger than myself.” Another finger rose. “The next was caught attempting to steal my pearl necklace, followed by two more who detested the country and ensured I received the force of their ill humor, and the last was far too fond of sampling the fine cellar you possess, my lord.” Her hand dropped, and she regarded him with a narrowed glare. “I can hardly be held at fault if you chose to hire lovelorn spinsters, thieves, and drunks.”

  Philip discovered himself taken aback by the vehemence in her tone. Was it possible that the chaperons his secretary had hired had proven to be so utterly undesirable? Granted, the women forced into such a position must have found it a demeaning proposition. And being in charge of such a high-spirited, beautiful young maiden could not be easy. Still . . . To think that they all had behaved in such a shocking fashion seemed difficult to accept. “You must be exaggerating.”

  Her glare did not waver. “I assure you that I am not.”

  Philip was at a dead-end. He could hardly prove that the women hadn’t been thoroughly unreliable, and Bella was quite aware of the fact. Clearly, it was time for a strategic change of tactics. “That still does not excuse your flight from my protection nor your outrageous lies to Lady Stenhold.”

  Her impossibly long lashes fluttered at his direct hit. Since his arrival he had discovered that Bella was genuinely fond of Lady Stenhold and no doubt disliked lying to the older woman. He had used her affection deliberately.

  “I will admit that I regret my pretense to Lady Stenhold,” she admitted stiffly. “But you left me no option.”

  His expression became one of disbelief. “You blame me?”

  “Of course,” she retorted without the slightest hesitation. “You are the one attempting to force me into marriage.”

  Philip decided that she had to be the most exasperating, unreasonable chit in all of England. “I am merely attempting to fulfill your father’s wishes.”

  “And what about my wishes?”

  “I believe Monsieur LeMont will make you a fine husband.”

  “I do not wish a husband.”

  “No,” he growled in frustration. “You wish to be a shocking hellion, sneaking about the countryside, lying to susceptible widows, and exposing us both to scandal.”

  Fury rippled over Bella’s tiny countenance. “Oh, yes, you are so concerned with scandal, are you not, my lord?”

  Philip stiffened. “What does that mean?”

  “You did not mind scandal when you paraded your actress about London and scorned every eligible debutante.”

  “That is none of your concern,” he rasped in embarrassment. Blast the chit.

  “Then what of your attempt to seduce your own ward?”

  For a moment Philip was beyond words. How dare she imply he was so lacking in morals? He had never seduced an innocent in his life, let alone his ward. He far preferred sophisticated Cyprians.

  He refused to admit that a portion of his anger might be caused by the undeniable heat that raced through his body whenever she was near, or the potent dreams that plagued his nights. That was something he was not yet prepared to consider.

  “That was merely a means of ensuring you realized the dangers of your ridiculous behavior,” he forced out between gritted teeth.

  “Well, it did not succeed. The only thing that you have proven is that I will never entrust my life to the care of treacherous men.”

  It was suddenly all too much for Philip. He had followed Bella to make sure that she would behave in a reasonable manner in front of their guests, only to be accused of every sin known to man. Well, she could blame him all she liked, but she would obey him.

  “What you will or will not do is entirely up to me, Miss Lowe. Do not forget that pertinent fact again.” His warning delivered, he turned and stormed from the room, not at all surprised when the crash of a porcelain figurine followed in his wake.

  Eleven

  Bella watched with murder in her heart as Lord Brasleigh marched from the room. There was no one who could ruffle her temper with such ease. Or make her behave in a manner that would no doubt shame her mother. And at the same moment, she was humiliatingly aware of the scent of his warm skin and the lean strength of his body.

  It was all so . . . maddening.

  He refused to admit that he had behaved in a shameful manner. Or even that he was wrong to force her into a loveless marriage. In all his glorious arrogance, he simply presumed that his every decision was utterly perfect. Like a command from God Himself.

  And then he had the audacity to behave as if this entire mess were entirely her fault.

  Her fault?

  With jerky movements she struggled to remove her gown. As furious as she might be with Lord Brasleigh, her concern should be with finding Lady Stenhold and somehow confessing her secret. The unexpected arrival of Madam LeMont and her son meant that her identity could no longer be kept a secret. She did not want the dear lady to discover the truth from anyone but herself.

  Tossing aside her gown, she thankfully reached for one of her own far more modest dresses. She chose a pale lilac satin with a simple ivory lace overskirt. She pulled her hair atop her head and allowed a sprinkling of curls to nuzzle her cheeks and the curve of her neck. Lastly, she clasped on her mother’s pearls.

  Ready as she would ever be, she left her rooms and hurried down the hall to Lady Stenhold’s chambers. After a brief tap, she entered slowly to discover the older woman seated in front of the cheval looking glass.

  The main chamber was a vast room designed in a French empire style. Ivory panels with an abundance of gilded moldings were offset with French ebony furnishings. A boulle armoire was placed along one wall, a canopy bed dominated the center of the room, and a delicate Mazarin desk was tucked in a distant corner. It was a room that perfectly matched Lady Stenhold. Elegant and yet sprinkled with just a hint of whimsy.

  At her entrance, the older woman shifted to regard her with a faint smile. “Hello, my dear.”

  “Forgive me for intruding.”

  “Not at all.” Lady Stenhold waved a hand to a gilt-and-ebony chair. “Please have a seat.”

  “Thank you.” Bella perched on the edge of the cushion.

  She felt a decided pang of reluctance at the thought of disappointing the woman who had come to mean a great deal in her life. Lady Stenhold was the first person who had opened her home to her out of friendship rather than duty or money. Bella wished that she did not have to ruin their budding relationship.

  “I trust that Lord Brasleigh has added his invitation to my own for his guests to remain at Mayfield?”

  Although Bella had been shocked by the unexpected arrival of the LeMonts, she was in enough possession of her faculties to recall a poetically handsome young gentleman with soft brown eyes and a large woman with a loud voice and unpleasantly forceful manner. Trust Lord Brasleigh to choose a gentleman with a mother that would make her life a misery, she inwardly seethed.

  “I do not believe Madam LeMont is in need of a second invitation,” she said in wry tones. “She appears determined to stay as long as
necessary.”

  Lady Stenhold regarded her with mild curiosity. “Are you acquainted with Madam LeMont?”

  “No,” Bella automatically denied, then swiftly checked herself. It was time the lies came to an end. “That is . . .”

  “Yes?”

  Bella’s gaze dropped to where her hands had twisted into knots in her lap. “This is very difficult.”

  “Is something the matter?” Lady Stenhold probed gently.

  Bella drew in a deep breath. This was every bit as horrible as she had expected. “Actually, I have a confession to make,” she admitted in strained tones.

  “Oh, my, that sounds ominous.” Lady Stenhold did not appear particularly concerned. Indeed, a hint of amusement could be detected deep in her eyes. “Should I pour us a brandy?”

  Bella could not prevent a wry smile. Somehow this woman always managed to make her feel as if everything was going to be just fine. “We shall no doubt have need of it later.”

  “It cannot be that bad.”

  “I fear that it is.” Bella steeled her quavering nerves and prepared for Lady Stenhold’s anger. “You see, I am not Anna Smith.”

  Bella unconsciously held her breath as she waited for Lady Stenhold’s outraged disbelief at her treachery. After all, the woman had opened her home to Bella with the belief that she was a poor widow with no resources and no family. The realization that she was harboring a liar and a runaway was bound to make her feel betrayed.

  Shockingly, however, the older woman merely regarded her with a faint smile. Almost as if she were not surprised at all. Bella could only presume she did not fully comprehend the situation.

  “Are you not?”

  “No,” she said in firm tones. “My name is Miss Bella Lowe.”

  “Miss Lowe,” Lady Stenhold repeated the name, an odd expression of satisfaction settling on her countenance. “Lord Brasleigh’s ward.”

  Bella was decidedly confused. The woman was not behaving at all as she had expected. Why was she not furious—or at least shocked by her confession? She sat there as if her houseguests pretended to be someone else every day.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I suppose that also means that you were not married to poor Lieutenant Smith?”

  Bella flushed at the memory of Lady Stenhold’s concern for her fictitious husband. “No, I . . . merely invented him so that no one would question a young maiden traveling on her own.”

  “A very dangerous occupation,” Lady Stenhold murmured with the first hint of reproach in her voice.

  Bella shivered as she recalled the horrible moments she had spent fighting off the advances of the young officer. It had been a terrifying occurrence that still occasionally haunted her dreams. “So I discovered,” she murmured.

  Lady Stenhold tilted her head to one side. “Would you mind telling me why you were traveling on your own?”

  “Because Lord Brasleigh is determined to marry me to Monsieur LeMont,” she said bluntly.

  At last Lady Stenhold appeared startled by Bella’s words. Clearly she had not expected this. “Monsieur LeMont is your fiance?”

  “Not by choice.“ Bella’s countenance hardened as she allowed her anger at Lord Brasleigh’s arrogant dismissal of her future to simmer to the surface. “After my father’s death, Lord Brasleigh became my guardian. Not that he was much of a guardian. Like my father, he believed that his only duty was to provide a house and pay a staff to keep me buried in the country. As long as I remained properly subdued and created no difficulties, I was happily forgotten, but the moment I refused to submit to the companionship of fools, I was swiftly thrust into an engagement with a gentleman in desperate enough straights that he would wed the devil himself if he brought a large enough dowry.”

  A small silence fell as Lady Stenhold pondered her low words. Bella found herself biting her lower lip. Although she felt personally insulted by Lord Brasleigh’s behavior, she logically realized that he was perfectly within his rights to arrange a marriage for her. Somehow, it was important to her that Lady Stenhold not agree with the arrogant lord.

  Thankfully, the older woman smiled with gentle understanding. “And so you left?”

  “Yes.” Bella gave a tiny grimace. “I had intended to go to London, but those soldiers frightened me, and when you suggested that I join you, it seemed the best solution to my troubles.”

  “I am very glad that you did,” Lady Stenhold said in firm tones. “There is no telling what might have happened to you had you actually continued your journey.”

  A portion of Bella was not nearly so confident. Lord Brasleigh had managed to track her to Surrey, as impossible as the task might seem. Perhaps a servant had recognized her and contacted her guardian, or maybe the innkeeper had seen her enter Lady Stenhold’s carriage. But it would have been a far more difficult task to have followed her had she reached London.

  Still, she was not so lost to reason as to deny that the dangers she faced on the road would only have been multiplied surrounded by thousands of strangers.

  The image of being alone and penniless in such a vast city sent a shiver down her spine. “I realize that now,” she reluctantly admitted.

  Confident that she had made her point, Lady Stenhold turned the conversation back to Bella’s current difficulties. “I am curious as to why Lord Brasleigh pretended not to know who you were. Surely he came here to take you back to his home?”

  Bella discovered herself shying away from revealing Lord Brasleigh’s charade. Although he was the one who should feel shame at his actions, she had no desire to discuss what had occurred between them.

  Especially those heart-stopping kisses . . .

  “It is a long and complicated story.”

  Lady Stenhold’s lips twitched. “Is it?”

  Anxious to divert the older woman’s thoughts, Bella leaned forward. “I suppose you are very angry with me?”

  The older woman considered Bella’s question before giving a slow shake of her head.

  “No, not angry. To be honest, I had suspected that there was more to you than a mere widow. Particularly after Lord Brasleigh’s arrival. I do wish, however, that you would have trusted me with the truth.”

  Bella gave a small blink of surprise. So, she had not been nearly as clever as she had thought. All along, Lady Stenhold had been aware that she was not being entirely truthful. A lucky thing she had not attempted to try her skills upon the stage. She would surely have starved to death.

  “It was never a matter of trust,” she assured her friend. “But if you had known the truth, I feared that you might feel compelled to contact my guardian.”

  Lady Stenhold gave a click of her tongue. “Not unless you wished me to.”

  “Of course, it would not have done much good either way.” She gave a restless lift of her shoulder. “Lord Brasleigh somehow knew where I was the entire time.”

  “So, what will you do?”

  “Do?”

  “Will you marry Monsieur LeMont?” Lady Stenhold demanded. “He appears a kindly sort, although I regret that I cannot say the same for his mother.”

  Bella stiffened her spine in a determined manner. “I have no intention of marrying anyone.”

  “Lord Brasleigh is in the position to make such a decision.”

  Bella needed no such reminder. She was aggravatingly aware of Lord Brasleigh’s control over her life. Unfortunately, there was precious little she could do to alter the situation. At least for the moment. “Then I will flee again, and this time I will ensure that he does not find me.”

  Lady Stenhold abruptly rose to her feet, her expression troubled. “Please do not act hastily, my dear. You recall what occurred at the posting inn.”

  Bella lifted her hands. “What else can I do?”

  “Let us wait and see. Perhaps together we can convince Lord Brasleigh that you deserve better than a marriage of convenience.”

  Bella also rose, inwardly acknowledging that it would be easier to convince the prince regent to live
upon a modest income. “He is not concerned with what is best for me,” she retorted in faintly bitter tones. “He only wishes to be rid of his pledge to my father.”

  “Just promise me that you will do nothing without discussing it with me first,” Lady Stenhold insisted.

  Bella wavered, uncertain whether she was willing to give such a pledge or not. There might come a moment when she felt compelled into flight. Then, with a tiny sigh, she accepted that if she did leave, she would have to seek this woman’s help. She would not flee again with no money and nowhere to go. And besides, she instinctively knew that she could trust Lady Stenhold with any trouble. “I promise.”

  “Thank you, my dear.”

  “I will leave you to finish preparing for dinner.”

  With an unknowingly sad smile, Bella turned and left the room. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts for the moment.

  Heading downstairs, she avoided the drawing room and instead entered a small sitting room. It would soon be time for dinner, but until then she desired a bit of peace. Closing the door behind her, she stepped toward the lion-clawed sofa only to give a soft gasp as she realized that there was already a slender, dark-haired gentleman seated upon the brocade cushions.

  “Oh.” Her eyes widened as Monsieur LeMont politely rose to his feet. Attired in a pale blue coat and cream pantaloons, he appeared remarkably handsome. Far too handsome to need to marry for a paltry dowry, she acknowledged. Surely there must be dozens of heiresses anxious to wed such an eligible gentleman?

  He performed an elegant bow. “Miss Lowe.”

  “I did not know anyone would be here.”

  “I fear you have caught me hiding out,” he confessed with a rueful grin.

  “Hiding?”

  “I was in little mood for conversation.”

  She took a step backward. “Then I will leave you.”

  “No, please.” Again he flashed that persuasive smile. “I wish you would stay.”

  Despite all her hard feelings toward this gentleman, Bella found that it was impossible to resist his gentle charm. There was something quite endearing about his manner. “Very well.”