Here Comes the Bride

by Alexandra Ivy

  Crossing the carpet, she settled on the edge of the sofa. Monsieur LeMont resumed his seat beside her. “I wished for an opportunity to apologize for my mother.”

  “There is no need,” Bella murmured.

  “There is every need,” he insisted. “I fear she possesses little shame in acquiring what she wants. I begged her to remain in London, but she fretted that Lord Brasleigh might change his mind while away from town.”

  “She need have no fear.” Bella smiled wryly. “Lord Brasleigh is determined to force us into marriage.”

  He gave a grimace, but his tone was light. “That makes it rather awkward for us, does it not?”

  “Decidedly awkward,” she agreed.

  For a moment he studied her tiny features. “May I be so bold as to inquire about your feelings toward a marriage between us?”

  Bella was uncertain how to respond. Oddly, she discovered herself reluctant to hurt his feelings. “To be honest, I have no desire to wed anyone. I am sorry.”

  Surprisingly, an expression of genuine relief fluttered across his thin face.

  “Do not apologize. I am no more inclined to marriage than yourself.”

  He did not wish to wed? Was it possible that he was no more than a pawn, just as herself? A flare of hope bloomed deep in her heart.

  “Then . . . why?”

  For a moment, she thought he might not answer her question; then he gave a rueful shrug. “You have met my mother. Once she discovered that Lord Brasleigh was offering a handsome dowry, there was nothing that could sway her determination that I should be chosen as the prospective bridegroom.”

  Bella abruptly leaned forward, her eyes unconsciously pleading. “You could always refuse.”

  Monsieur LeMont gave a slow shake of his head. “I have on several occasions, but my mother will not listen to reason.”

  Bella slowly leaned back. After meeting Madam LeMont she could well imagine her son’s difficulties. Madam LeMont was every bit as tenacious and arrogant as Lord Brasleigh. Maybe even more so if that were possible. “It appears that we are in the same muddle,” she retorted.

  He cast her a sympathetic glance. “Yes, it does.”

  She lifted her hands in a helpless motion. “So, what is to be done?”

  “There seems little we can do.”

  Her expression unconsciously became despondent. “No, I suppose not.”

  For a moment, he regarded her drooping lips; then he abruptly leaned forward. “Hold on. Perhaps we should consider our options.”

  “Options?”

  A teasing glint entered his brown eyes as he pretended to ponder their dilemma. “There must be something we can do. Let us see.... Perhaps we could barricade ourselves in the room and refuse to come out.”

  A reluctant smile curved her lips as she realized that he was kindly attempting to ease her troubled spirits. Any lingering resentment toward the gentleman whom Lord Brasleigh had chosen as her bridegroom was swept aside. He was not to blame for the treachery of her guardian and his mother.

  “I do not believe that one small bowl of grapes would hold us for long.”

  He heaved a sorrowful sigh. “I suppose you are right.”

  Entering into the teasing, Bella tapped a slender finger to her chin. “We could always become smugglers and live in a cave.”

  “I fear that caves make me sneeze,” he informed her in regretful tones.

  “Well, we could not have that.”

  He considered her another moment. “We could take to the stage. With your beauty, we would no doubt be an overwhelming success.”

  Bella gave a dramatic shudder. “Thank you, but I believe that I prefer the cave.”

  “Well, then, perhaps we will simply become highwaymen,” he suggested.

  Rather unbelievably, Bella discovered herself enjoying their ridiculous bantering. She had never had the companionship of those her own age. It was rather nice to have someone about who did not treat her as a child and did not twist her stomach into knots.

  “Ah . . . That I like,” she retorted with a saucy grin. “We could dash about the countryside and become quite legendary.”

  “Oh, yes. And we would chose only the most expensive coaches to plunder,” he insisted.

  She nodded her head in agreement. “We would be most particular.”

  “And our only concern would be the local magistrate.”

  The image of herself and this elegant young gentleman galloping across the countryside to hold up carriages with armed servants and outriders made her chuckle. “A trifling problem when compared to Lord Brasleigh and your mother.”

  He gave a low chuckle. “Trifling, indeed.”

  His laughter was still floating through the room when the door was abruptly thrust open and Lord Brasleigh stepped inside. In the blink of an eye, the frivolous atmosphere was dispelled.

  Appearing annoyingly handsome in a moss-green coat and silver waistcoat, his large form easily dominated the room. He was so commanding, so utterly sure of himself. Bella gritted her teeth even as her stomach gave that odd twinge that seemed to travel to the tips of her toes.

  “There you are, Bella,” he said unnecessarily, his gaze taking careful note of her rather intimate position next to Monsieur LeMont.

  “My lord,” she retorted in clipped tones.

  “Dinner is about to be served.”

  At his announcement, Monsieur LeMont rose to his feet. “Mother will be searching for me. Excuse me.”

  With a lingering smile toward Bella, the younger gentleman strolled from the room. Alone with the aggravating man, Bella rose to her feet. She felt intimidated enough without having to twist her neck to meet his narrowed silver gaze.

  Lord Brasleigh watched her movements with an unreadable expression. “You appeared to be quite enjoying LeMont’s company,” he said abruptly.

  Bella gave an indifferent shrug. “He is very charming.”

  Oddly, Lord Brasleigh did not appear particularly pleased with her response. “I would not have chosen him if he had not been.”

  She gave a disgusted snort. “You would have chosen Napoleon if it would have suited your purpose.“ Tilting her chin, she marched forward. “Now, excuse me. I should not wish to be late for dinner.”

  Twelve

  The delicate strains of the pianoforte floated through the air, adding a pleasant backdrop to the muted conversation. Not that Philip found himself particularly enjoying Bella’s performance. For some reason, the sight of her seated before the instrument while LeMont stood beside her to turn the pages was less than pleasing.

  It was not that he did not wish the two to become better acquainted, he assured himself. After all, they would soon be wed. And he was relieved that they had not taken an instant aversion to each other. The aggravating chit was just stubborn enough to treat her fiancé with the sharp edge of her tongue.

  But for all his stern reminders that matters appeared to be progressing even better than expected, he could not dismiss the flare of distaste at the air of intimacy that appeared to have bloomed in such a rapid fashion.

  For goodness’ sakes, LeMont was nearly draped over her side with his hand upon her shoulder, and more than once he had leaned down to whisper something in her ear.

  They were not yet wed, Philip told himself with an unconscious frown. And he had not averted his ward from one scandal only to have her plunge headlong into another.

  With an effort, he turned his back on the two and attempted to concentrate on Madam LeMont and Lady Stenhold seated upon a small sofa.

  “It is so lovely to have music in the house again,” Lady Stenhold was saying with a faint smile.

  Although Philip had not yet had the opportunity to speak with Lady Stenhold and apologize for his less than gentlemanly behavior, it was obvious she had already forgiven Bella for her deceit. There was nothing but admiration in her expression as she regarded her young guest.

  Madam LeMont, however, was not quite so admiring. Her long face was instead set in r
ather critical lines. “Yes, although I fear Miss Lowe is only an adequate musician. Luckily, I am quite talented upon the pianoforte and shall endeavor to improve her skills.”

  Lady Stenhold instantly bristled at the disparagement of her friend. “I think she plays quite lovely. What about you, my lord?”

  “Yes,” Philip retorted in ominous tones. He did not care for Madam LeMont’s words any more than Lady Stenhold.

  As if sensing the disapproval about her, Madam LeMont gave a forced laugh. “Oh, do not imagine that I am complaining,” she protested. “Miss Lowe is quite a charming girl. But like all maidens, she will need the guidance of a more experienced lady. Without a mother, poor dear, it falls on me to lead her on the proper path.”

  Philip forced himself to grit his teeth at the condescending tone, but Lady Stenhold was not so discrete. “I fear that Miss Lowe does not care to be led upon any path. She can be quite headstrong.”

  Madam LeMont’s features hardened. “That is a failing that will quickly be mended.”

  Lady Stenhold pursed her lips. “By you?”

  “Well, Andre is of far too sweet a nature to mold a wife to his suiting,” Madam LeMont retorted. “Indeed, he is often imposed upon in the most infamous manner.”

  “Yes, I can well believe it,” Lady Stenhold said dryly.

  A smug expression settled on Madam LeMont’s countenance. “It shall be my duty to ensure that she is a comfortable wife.”

  If Philip had not been so infuriated by the vulgar woman’s presumption that she was in any way qualified to school a lady of genuine breeding, he would have laughed aloud. Bella, a comfortable wife? It was absurd. She might be clever, adorable, spirited, and utterly aggravating, but she would never, ever be comfortable.

  Lady Stenhold’s expression echoed his own disgust as she rigidly studied the large woman. “Tell me, Madam LeMont, do you intend to reside with your son?”

  Madam LeMont instantly summoned a martyred air. She even raised a lace handkerchief to dab at her nose. “Unfortunately, I was left with only a pittance of an income after the death of my beloved husband. Such a tragedy for a poor widow. I could not possibly support my own establishment and depend upon the generosity of my only son.”

  Philip was well aware that she was being far from truthful. He had personally investigated the LeMonts before choosing Andre, and he had discovered that Madam LeMont received a dowager’s income from her husband’s estate. She was more than capable of living in comfort, if not an extravagant manner. She was clearly greedy enough to wish to live on his dowry while feathering her comfort with her own income.

  “How tragic,” Lady Stenhold murmured, although her tone was far from sympathetic.

  “And of course, Andre would be quite lost without me near,” the woman continued, unaware of her audience’s growing distaste. “I know precisely how to arrange his household for his comfort.”

  “Of course,” Lady Stenhold muttered.

  Philip could endure no more. Although he had realized that Madam LeMont was something of a bully, he had not allowed himself to accept just how ghastly she truly was.

  How dare she presume that he would stand aside while she moved into Bella’s home and played the petty tyrant? And to suggest that she could train Bella to be a lady. The sheer audacity stole his breath. Bella was a lady from the top of her golden curls to the tips of her tiny feet. While Madam LeMont was . . .

  Reminding himself that he was a gentleman, Philip did not allow the thought to form. Besides, a far more disturbing thought began to wiggle in the back of his mind.

  Had he not considered Madam LeMont’s boorish manner because he had not been concerned with whether or not Bella was happy in her new home? Had he indeed been so anxious to rid himself of Bella that he would have offered her to Napoleon?

  He drew in a sharp breath. Dash it all! It was too late for regrets. The match was made, and there was nothing he could do now.

  Wishing that he could somehow retrieve the confident assurance in his infallibility that he had once accepted as his right, Philip gave a shake of his head.

  Blast Bella Lowe.

  “Excuse me,” he muttered before turning and moving toward Lord Blackmar who had staked a place beside the tray of brandy.

  Perhaps his friend could ease the peculiar sense of dissatisfaction that seemed lodged in the pit of his stomach. Coming to a halt, he accepted the brandy that his friend held out.

  “You are looking particularly grim for a gentleman who has won the battle,” Pudding drawled.

  “Madam LeMont could make any gentleman appear grim,” he muttered.

  Pudding shrugged. “Once you have Miss Lowe wed, you can wash your hands of the harridan.”

  “I suppose.”

  Something in his tone made his companion regard him closely. “You are not having second thoughts, are you?”

  “I merely forgot how excessively vulgar she is.”

  If he had not been so preoccupied, Philip might have noted the sly glint in Pudding’s eyes. As it was, he was far too busy with his disturbing thoughts.

  “At least the son appears to be a remarkably pleasing young man.”

  Philip slowly turned to regard the two in the corner. His mood was not lightened at the sight of them laughing at some private comment. “Yes, it is difficult to believe that they are related,” he grudgingly conceded.

  “And you must be pleased that Miss Lowe appears quite taken with him,” his friend prodded.

  Pleased was not at all what Philip was feeling. Still, he was in no mood to discuss his strange reaction. “They appear friendly enough.”

  “At least you no longer have to fear that she will bolt in the middle of the night.”

  Philip gave a sharp laugh. “I do not believe for a moment that Miss Lowe has so abruptly conceded defeat. She is too contrary for that, no matter how taken she might be with LeMont.”

  Pudding lifted his glass and pretended to study the amber liquid. “Then why do you not simply take them to Scotland and have them wed?”

  Philip gazed at his friend in shock. “Do not be absurd.”

  “It would be a swift end to your troubles, and we would be free to return to London.” Pudding turned to regard him squarely. “Miss Ravel is no doubt anxiously awaiting your return.”

  At the moment, Philip did not care if the actress had to wait until her hair turned gray. Or even if she waited at all. “Miss Ravel will simply have to wait,” he said indifferently; then as a movement flickered in the corner of his eye, he abruptly turned his head to discover LeMont calmly escorting Bella through the open French doors and into the garden. “What the devil?”

  Without even glancing toward Pudding, Philip was stalking across the room and through the doors. How dare they simply quit the room in such a fashion? Did they believe their disappearance would go unnoticed? Or was Bella once again attempting to goad him into Bedlam?

  He discovered the pair just about to step onto a narrow path that would lead them to a rarely used section of the garden. Philip felt a flare of annoyance at their lack of propriety.

  “Monsieur LeMont,” he said loudly, watching as they halted and reluctantly turned to face him.

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “I must beg that you return to the others. I have need to speak with my ward alone.”

  “Of course.” Seemingly indifferent to Philip’s narrowed gaze, Andre lifted Bella’s slender hand to kiss her fingers. “We will speak later.”

  A silence fell as the young man slowly strolled back to the house. Then, once they were alone, Bella turned to regard him with her familiar dislike. “What do you want?”

  Want? He gazed down at her mutinous expression. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until her anger melted and she pressed that delectable form next to his own.

  As soon as the treacherous thought entered his head he was scrubbing it away. He was dearly losing what few senses he still had left. “Although it should not be necessary, I thought it
only prudent to remind you that it is hardly proper for you to be wandering through a dark garden with a young gentleman.”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath. “Improper to spend a few moments with my fiancé? I thought you wished me to be with Monsieur LeMont in a far more intimate setting than a dark garden.”

  His gut twisted at her direct thrust. No, he would not consider such things. He could not. “You are determined to create a scandal,” he gritted.

  “I am alone with you now. Are you not terrified of a scandal?” she taunted.

  “I am your guardian.”

  “You have yet to act like my guardian.”

  He was uncomfortably aware of that fact. No matter how good his intentions, he always seemed to end up behaving badly. He regarded her with frustration. “What would you have me do?”

  “I only wished to be treated as a young lady with a bit of intelligence, not as a piece of property to be disposed of.”

  “I have never considered you a piece of property.”

  “No?”

  Philip refused to consider whether the scent of lavender came from the garden or Bella’s golden curls as he stepped closer.

  “Most guardians wish to see their wards suitably married.”

  “To complete strangers?” she demanded.

  “Would you prefer a season in town to meet eligible gentlemen?” The words were out before he could halt them. For goodness’ sakes, the last thing he wanted was to play escort from one dreary affair to another. Still, he made no attempt to detract them.

  She appeared unimpressed by his impulsive words. “Once I would have been happy to come to London for such a season. All I have ever desired was to fall in love and have a family.”

  “Love?” he said in startled tones.

  “Yes? Is that so surprising? I have had precious little of it in my life.”

  “Nonsense. Your father loved you.”

  She gave a restless wave of her hand. “Did he?”

  “Yes. He often spoke of you when we were together.”

  “My father did not even know me. On the few occasions he was home, he barely recalled that I was about.”

  It was all too easy to imagine the lonely little girl forlornly awaiting a bit of attention. Colonel Lowe, after all, had been away from home a great deal, and he certainly was not an overly emotional sort of gentleman. He would not have found it easy to reveal his love to his daughter. Philip’s expression unknowingly softened. “Perhaps he merely found it difficult to express his feelings.”