The Wayward Bride

by Anna Bradley

It couldn’t be short enough for Isla. “I’ll marry you now if you like, in these woods, with the trees swaying over our heads, and no one but our horses as witnesses.”

  Hugh threw his head back in a laugh of pure joy. “And a carpet of bluebells for our marriage bed.”

  “I can’t imagine anything more beautiful than that.” Isla grasped fistfuls of his shirt in her hands and hung on to him, afraid if she let him go he’d disappear, and she’d wake and discover this was all a dream. It felt like a dream, but sometimes, when one least expected it, a fairy tale did come true.

  Now, fate was smiling on them at last.

  Perhaps it always had been.

  Epilogue

  Three months later

  “I think we’ll have to add Sicily to the tour, Luke.” Sydney traced his finger over the map spread out across the long table in the library at Sydney Court. “Why, it’s hardly any distance at all from Naples. If we’re going to go so far south, it seems a shame not to visit Palermo.”

  “Only you would consider seven hundred miles to be hardly any distance, Sydney.” Lucas rested one hand on Sydney’s shoulder and leaned over the table to get a closer look at the map. “Wouldn’t you rather go to Athens than Palermo? I’d like to see the Parthenon.”

  “There’s no reason we can’t see both.” Sydney straightened and turned to Lucas with a smile. “We can do whatever we like.”

  Since they’d come to Sydney Court, they’d fallen into the habit of spending the afternoons in the library, poring over maps of the Continent and reading aloud to each other from the books of antiquities they found lining Sydney’s library shelves. Lucas had recently become preoccupied with Grecian architecture after reading Stuart’s The Antiquities of Athens and Other Monuments of Greece aloud to Sydney.

  Lucas turned to lean back against the table, then took Sydney’s arm and urged him closer, so Sydney was standing between his legs. “Whatever we like?”

  Sydney let out a soft moan as Lucas pressed his mouth to the sensitive skin under his ear. “Within reason. But not this. At least, not now.”

  “Why not now?” Lucas murmured, dragging his hands down Sydney’s chest.

  Sydney fought to catch his breath. “You know why. I know what you’re doing, Luke.”

  Lucas teased the tip of his tongue over Sydney’s neck. “What am I doing?”

  “You’re trying to lure me upstairs, and it won’t work. There’s no time. Our guests will be here any moment.” Sydney made an effort to keep his voice even, but the huskiness gave him away.

  Lucas caught Sydney’s earlobe between his teeth, wringing another moan from him. “It sounds like it is working.”

  Sydney wanted nothing more than to let Lucas continue his sensual exploration, but he forced himself to grasp Lucas’s shoulders and ease him back. “There’s no need to be nervous, you know. Isla is fully prepared to adore you. Lord Pierce adores her and will approve of you for that reason alone.”

  Lucas sighed and dropped his forehead to Sydney’s chest. “He’s a marquess, Sydney, and she’s a marchioness. It may not go as smoothly as you think it will.”

  When they’d first arrived at Sydney Court, Lucas had been overwhelmed by the grandeur of the estate—all the servants bustling about, the four carriages, the fine porcelain teacups, and the vast number of books in the library. He’d gotten over some of his uneasiness as the weeks passed, but certain situations still intimidated him, and occasionally his nervousness would return.

  A visit from the Marquess and Marchioness Pierce was just such a situation.

  “I don’t deny Pierce is a stern one, but he’s a good fellow, and Isla…well, she behaves as much like a marchioness as I do an earl.” Sydney touched his hand to Lucas’s chin until Lucas raised his head and met Sydney’s eyes. “They’re my friends, Luke. They’ll love you for my sake at first, and then, once they know you, they’ll love you for yours.”

  “Yes, all right.” Lucas nodded, but his gray eyes were still wary.

  Sydney gave Lucas a quick, hard kiss. He pulled away with a reassuring smile just as the sound of carriage wheels rattled to a stop in the drive. “Ah, I believe they’ve arrived. I think I can promise with reasonable certainty that nothing will go wrong.”

  Lucas opened his mouth to answer, but just then there was a shout from outdoors. Sydney and Lucas looked at each other in confusion. “What the devil?”

  A high-pitched, feminine shriek followed the shout, then a frenzy of excited barking. “Oh, no. Where’s Brute?” Sydney dashed for the window. “Damn it, I can’t see anything from here.”

  “He was just right there.” Lucas’s gaze shot to Brute’s blanket, and his expression changed from confusion to dawning horror. “He’s sneaked out again, and you know where he’s gone. Straight for the—”

  “The fish pond,” Sydney muttered, abandoning the window. “Quickly, Luke. We have to get him before he gives Lord Pierce and Isla a greeting they won’t soon forget.”

  But as Sydney ran from the library to the entryway with Lucas on his heels, he recalled the shriek they’d heard, and knew it was already too late.

  * * * *

  “Well, that’s not a sight you see every day.” Hugh was standing in the circular drive in front of the entrance to Sydney Court, one arm wrapped around Isla’s waist and his other hand shading his eyes as he stared off at something in the distance.

  “What is it?” Isla turned to follow his gaze.

  “It’s…well, it looks like a bear. Or a dog. I can’t quite tell from here, but it’s big, black, furry, and soaking wet.” He drew her closer to his side and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I thought I saw something swimming in the pond when we passed.”

  Isla rose to her tiptoes, her hand on his arm, and squinted into the distance. “It’s a dog that looks like a bear?”

  “Or a bear that looks like a dog.” Hugh shook his head. “I can’t tell which.”

  “It must be Brute, Mr. Dean’s dog. Sydney told me all about him. He looks rather like a bear, but he’s the most brilliant animal to ever grace the county of Kent, to hear Sydney tell it. Is Brute coming our way? I don’t see him, Hugh.”

  “Oh, you’ll see him soon enough. He’s most certainly coming our way, and he’s… Good Lord, it looks like he’s bringing half the fish pond with him.” Hugh grabbed Isla’s arm and tried to hurry her back into the carriage. “Ah, I think you’d better duck back inside, sweetheart.”

  Isla frowned. “Nonsense. I want to meet him. Sydney says he’s very friendly.”

  “It’s not his friendliness I’m concerned with. It’s his hygiene. Quickly, Isla. Get back into the carriage, before he’s—”

  But it was already too late. Brute, who was convinced any visitors to Sydney Court must be there to see him, had leapt from the fish pond the minute the carriage turned into the drive.

  Hugh and Isla watched with identical expressions of fascination and dismay as Brute rounded the corner of the house and charged straight for them, his enormous pink tongue lolling out of one side of his mouth, his shaggy black fur drenched with pond water.

  “Oh, my goodness!” Isla clapped a hand over her mouth. She raised her wide-eyed gaze to Hugh, her mouth twisting as if she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. She didn’t get a chance to do either before Brute’s massive front paws landed on the drive in front of them. He let out a single bark of joyous welcome, crouched low, and, starting with his big, blunt head and ending with his bushy tail, proceeded to shake every drop of water from his coat.

  Foul pond water flew in every direction, splattering muddy water over everything it touched. Hugh’s pristine white cravat. Isla’s dainty pale green muslin gown. It splashed Hugh’s spotless traveling coach and ran in rivulets down the center of the handsome Pierce crest. Hugh and Isla let out involuntary shrieks of surprise. Brute stood in the midst of the chaos, barking and w
agging his tail, well pleased with his afternoon’s adventure.

  “Brute, you fiendish creature! You’ve doused our guests in pond water! Men have been imprisoned for less than muddying a marquess.”

  Isla and Hugh turned to find Sydney standing at the front door. He was doing his best to look scandalized, but Isla knew him well, and she could see the telltale quirk at the corners of his lips.

  She jabbed her hands onto her hips. “Good afternoon, Sydney. I must say, I wasn’t expecting quite so enthusiastic a welcome.”

  Hugh reached out to brush a streak of mud from Isla’s cheek, a grin stealing over his lips. “Nor I. Well done, Sydney.”

  “I assume this is the bear you warned me about,” Isla began, intending to engage in some good-natured teasing of her dear friend, but then she caught sight of the gentleman lurking behind Sydney and hesitated, her smile fading.

  The man was tall, broad-shouldered, and very handsome, with an angular jaw and a head of thick red hair. Isla recognized him at once as Lucas Dean, Sydney’s beloved, and the expression on his face…

  He was utterly mortified. Dull red flooded his cheeks as his miserable gaze darted from Hugh to Isla, then Isla to Brute. He looked as if he wished he could disappear inside the house and stay there until their visit was over.

  “Oh, Brute. What have you done?” He pointed to the ground, and Brute instantly went to his side and sat politely at his feet. “I’m sorry…that is, I beg your pardon, Lord and Lady Pierce,” Lucas muttered, ducking his head. “He’s a good dog, really…” He swallowed and trailed off into an awkward silence.

  Emotion welled in Isla’s throat. No, this wouldn’t do. She wouldn’t allow the man Sydney loved—the man who’d saved his life—to suffer a moment’s distress over something as insignificant as a few drops of muddy water.

  “Mr. Dean?” She strode toward him, pausing only to press an affectionate kiss to Sydney’s cheek before she took Lucas’s hands in hers. “You know, my husband has dozens of cravats, and I never cared much for this dress. Ladies with blue eyes shouldn’t wear green. Don’t you agree?”

  Lucas’s flush deepened, but somehow, she’d managed to say just the right thing. He raised a pair of the loveliest gray eyes she’d ever seen to her face, and a shy smile drifted over his lips. “I think every color must suit you, Lady Pierce.”

  Isla laughed and slid her arm through his. “You’re very charming, Mr. Dean. But you must call me Isla. We’re to be great friends, aren’t we?”

  Sydney and Hugh stood back as Isla and Lucas disappeared into the house together, already chatting like old friends. “Funny thing is, Pierce,” Sydney said, turning to Hugh with a bemused smile. “Lucas isn’t charming. Not in the least. You’d never know it to see him just now though, would you?”

  Hugh grinned and slapped his hand on Sydney’s shoulder. “Isla brings out the best in people.”

  “She does. She does, indeed. You’re a fortunate man, Pierce.”

  Hugh paused and turned his face up to the blue sky. The sun was streaming down, flooding the drive where they stood and bathing them in its warm rays. “I’d say all four of us are fortunate. Odd, how things worked out, isn’t it?”

  Sydney shook his head, his smile still lingering on his lips. “Damndest thing I ever saw.”

  Author’s Notes

  The architectural details from the estate tour Hugh gives Isla in Chapter 8 are based on Gorhambury House, an Elizabethan mansion in St. Alban’s, Hertfordshire. https://www.gorhamburyestate.co.uk/Gorhambury-House

  The Complete Farmer; or, A General Dictionary of Husbandry, in all its Branches, 2nd ed. Published by R. Baldwin. London, 1769.

  Severe weather, much like the ice storm described in Hugh and Isla’s story, was not unusual during the Regency. The years of 1813 and 1814 were among the coldest on record—so cold the Thames River froze, and the last great frost fair was held on its surface in January and February of 1814. Great quantities of snow fell as late as April and May of 1816, which was famously dubbed “the year without a summer.” British Weather from 1700-1849. http://www.pascalbonenfant.com/18c/weather.html

  Stuart, James. The Antiquities of Athens and Other Monuments of Greece. J. Haberkorn. London, 1762.

  Meet the Author

  Anna Bradley is the author of The Sutherland Scandals novels. A Maine native, she now lives near Portland, Oregon, where people are delightful and weird and love to read. She lives with her husband, two children, a variety of spoiled pets, and shelves full of books.

  Visit her website at www.annabradley.net.