The Mischievous Bride (The Clearbrooks)

by Teresa McCarthy

  Hughmont scowled. “The duke? What for?”

  Marcus shrugged. “He’s the duke. Who knows?”

  Hughmont’s face twisted. He turned a determined gaze toward Milli. “If you don’t mind waiting, I shall return in a few minutes.” And the man was off, his long strides pounding against the grass in a harried motion.

  Milli gave Marcus a skeptical look. “What does Roderick want with Lord Hughmont?”

  Marcus smiled wickedly. “Nothing at all. He just didn’t want you trying to interrogate each suitor.”

  She shot from her seat and instantly felt the boat tip. With a curse, Marcus jumped in and grabbed her waist, forcing her down. “Do you want to fall in?”

  “Of course not.” She held to the sides of the boat, shocked by the way his touch still affected her. She sat down, trying to disengage her already broken heart.

  He sat across from her, snatched the oars and pushed off.

  “What in the world do you think you are doing?”

  His silver eyes glittered with amusement. “If you want to interrogate me, go ahead.”

  She crossed her arms over her breasts and clapped her mouth shut. The silent treatment wasn’t her usual behavior when she was angry, but at the moment, it was the best she could think of, otherwise, she might push the man overboard.

  “Come now, little princess. You must have some questions.”

  She pressed her lips together, refusing to answer.

  A minute turned into five. He seemed content to say nothing, which galled her even more. She found her self staring at his powerful arms as they rowed into the middle of the lake. A light breeze lifted his black hair, giving him a carefree look. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes made him even more attractive. Her heart hammered as she thought about his kisses. He was making her crazy.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she finally spat out.

  He continued to row. His pale eyes drilled into hers. “We could not afford to let anyone know. Even you. Whoever wanted your father dead, wanted to clear his debts or wanted you for a wife. Or both.”

  “What if the murderer is not here? What if he only wanted to kill papa and leave it at that? We might never find him then.”

  Marcus’s face turned grim. “White Hall and the Home Office have information the man is still on the hunt.”

  Milli felt sick. “So, they believe the murderer wants to marry me?”

  Marcus’s silver eyes glittered as they wandered over her. “Yes.”

  Milli lifted her chin. “And all your kisses, all your attentions, meant nothing at all? Well, I daresay, you should have let me go off with Lord Hughmont then. If we want to get to the bottom of this, I have to help.”

  “That’s just it. We don’t need your help.”

  “Ah, you are using me, but don’t need my help. You are just playing me against my suitors. You want Hughmont to be jealous, and I daresay, I think it is working.”

  The water splashed as he picked up the oars and set them in the boat. “No.”

  “No?” She let out a hysterical laugh. “Oh, that’s too kind. You cannot be telling me you wanted to kiss me?”

  His soft gaze roamed her face. “I wanted to kiss you. But—”

  “But you don’t love me?” Her militant expression dared him to deny it.

  “I won’t tell you I love you. I never will.”

  Hot tears threatened to fall, but she held them back. Was he still thinking of Lady Madeleine? Or was he only guarding her from the murderer? Did it even matter?

  She gazed over his head, anywhere but into those mesmerizing silver eyes. “I think we have covered everything, don’t you think? I want to go back now.”

  His hands tightened on the oars. “I want to explain—”

  “Explain? My goodness! It’s a little late now, I daresay. Bring me back. We are drifting too far.” He chuckled, causing her to glower at him. “Would you please pick up those oars and row me back to shore?”

  He leaned back and surveyed her. “I believe, Miss Millicent Shelby, that you are afraid of me.”

  She shifted in her seat. “Ha. Afraid of you? That would be a first, I daresay.”

  He leaned forward, his silken voice sending shivers down her arms. “Yet I believe you are afraid.”

  She waved her hand in the air. “Utterly absurd.”

  He moved closer, his smile shooting straight to her toes. “Millicent Shelby, I believe you want me to kiss you.”

  She gasped, scooting as far back as she could. “That is an outrageous thing to say. Now, I demand you bring me back.”

  He trailed a finger along her arm, sending tingles of awareness through her. The boat swayed as she leaned away. “Bring me back, Marcus. I’m warning you . . .”

  “Why? If you think I disliked your kisses, let me set your straight on that account. I liked them very much.”

  Without warning, he scooped his hands beneath her and cradled her in his arms.

  She screeched in alarm.

  The boat rocked, making the corners of his mouth curl into a wicked grin. “I have you. You won’t drown. Not on my watch.”

  Her lashes flew up in shock. “Marcus. Put me down!”

  His gaze locked with hers. “I don’t think so.”

  She was afraid to hope. “If you think—”

  “Don’t think, little princess, just kiss me.”

  He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. The meeting was light and tender, burning her senses. He nibbled down her neck, then came back to her ear. The warmth of his touch was like fire licking through her veins.

  She felt herself drifting on a cloud, when suddenly the sun shone in her eyes, blinding her. She blinked against the brightness. What was she doing? What was he doing?

  She was shocked at the way her body reacted to him. She leaned away, almost forgetting that he would never love her. How foolish could she be?

  “Take me back, Marcus.”

  He looked into her eyes, his hand holding the back of her neck. He seemed amused at her anger. “I don’t take orders from you, Miss Millicent.”

  She pushed him aside and grabbed the oars. “Then I shall row back myself.”

  With a wicked grin settling over his face, he sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Go ahead.”

  She tried rowing and only splashed herself with buckets of water. She glared at him. Her muscles burned from exhaustion as she went around in circles.

  “I’ll do it,” he said with a snort of amusement.

  “I can do it,” she snapped.

  She tugged. He pulled.

  She shot to her feet, glaring at him. “Let me do this!”

  “Sit down! Or do you want to drown us both?”

  “I won’t sit down!”

  “You will!”

  He leaned over to grab her.

  She tottered. “Don’t you touch m—” Her scream died as she fell into the water with a splash.

  The cold water shocked her. She could hear a muffled laugh as Marcus jumped in after her.

  “I can’t swim,” she screamed, splashing and grabbing onto his back. Her gown clung to her body like an anchor, and her wet hair plastered against her face, making it hard to see.

  However, she could see enough to catch sight of the boat, which was sinking like a rock. “It’s upside down!” she screamed. “Turn it over!”

  “Quit moving,” he spat, grabbing her and turning her around. “I cannot do two things at once!”

  “If I don’t move, I am going to drown!”

  He wrapped an arm around her upper chest. “Just relax, honey. I won’t let you drown.”

  She tried to go limp, and let him pull her ashore. “I am not your honey.”

  His tender chuckle irritated her. “That’s it. Just let me get you to land.”

  When he reached the side of the lake, she scrambled out of the water.

  He stared at her in silence.

  She looked down and crossed her arms over her chest. Her wet cl
othes clung to her like a second skin. “King George, you scoundrel! Turn around!”

  He shook his head, his smiling eyes sweeping her from head to toe. “That is not a possibility. You will need some help returning home.”

  She stomped her foot. “I cannot go back like this! Don’t just stand there looking like a codfish with your mouth wide open! Do something!”

  He took of his wet jacket and offered it to her. “Your majesty.”

  She quickly put it on, slapping her hair out of her eyes. Muscles rippled beneath his wet clothing, making her more aware of his perfectly proportioned body. And she looked like a rat! This was too much. “D-don’t you dare make fun of m-me!”

  His laughter rang in her ears. “You look adorable. Like a wet puppy with big gray eyes.”

  She would not dignify that with an answer. She had almost drowned, not to mention that she had recently discovered her dear father had been murdered. And now, Marcus was laughing at her. Her teeth started to chatter. Her head hurt from too much sun, and she felt chilled to the bone.

  Tears filled her eyes as she spun around and started walking back to the group.

  “Milli?”

  She ignored him, too hurt to stop and even yell at him.

  “Milli?” he asked again, his tone gentle as he hurried to move in front of her.

  She kept her gaze to the ground. “I’m c-cold.”

  He yanked his jacket around her and lifted her face with his finger. “You’re crying.”

  Her eyes clashed with his. “Does it matter?”

  He traced her cheek with a light hand. “Yes, it matters.”

  Her bottom lip trembled from his touch. Her throat hurt from the emotions swirling in her soul. She was too confused. Too heartbroken . . .

  “Milli.” He clasped her face gently in his hands and pulled her to him. He rested her head against his chest. A small sob escaped her and she let the tears spill down her cheeks.

  He breathed softly against her neck. “Don’t cry, princess.”

  “Miss Millicent! Miss Millicent! Where are you?”

  Lord Hughmont’s voice pierced the air, jerking Milli from Marcus’s hold.

  Marcus stared at her, his eyes alight with amusement. “It seems we can never be alone. We were destined to be interrupted. But we will finish this later. I promise you.”

  Her eyes rounded, but before she could say another word, Lord Hughmont was upon them. “Jupiter, what happened?” His suspicious gaze shot to Marcus.

  “We fell out of the boat,” Marcus said calmly.

  Hughmont’s brows rose. “Fell out of the boat?” He looked at Milli who was shivering. “You poor girl. Let me get you back to the house.”

  “I can do that,” Marcus snapped.

  Lord Hughmont turned to him. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough for today?”

  Milli watched as Marcus said nothing. His grimace told her everything. Her stomach clenched. This was his plan! For Hughmont to find them!

  “Come along,” Hughmont said, taking her arm. “We need to get you home. Warm and safe.”

  Milli nodded as he escorted her toward the group. Safe? What was that anymore?

  A few others in the group turned Milli’s way, their shocked gazes taking in her wet clothes.

  “What happened?”

  “Thunderation, what in the world—”

  “Zeus! Did you fall in?”

  Milli forced a smile as she met with Knightengale, Valford and Bennington who were hurrying toward her. Breadford was speaking to her sister, and the two suddenly looked up, their mouths dropping open in horror.

  “Milli!” Lizzie screamed, running toward her. The rest of the family wasn’t far behind. Milli wanted to fall into her sister’s arm and cry.

  But the other men were already upon her.

  “I had a little accident,” she said, her mouth slipping into a trembling smile. Marcus stood dripping wet, saying nothing.

  Her gaze traveled over the horrified faces of her suitors. She pinched her lips together in disgust. Marcus had done a fine job of making them jealous. Yes, indeed, he had done what he had set out to do.

  Knightengale glared at Marcus. “What the hell happened?”

  Marcus shrugged. “A hole in the boat.”

  Hughmont scowled. “I thought you said—”

  “There was a hole in the boat,” Marcus said, daring the man to change the story.

  “Uncle Marcus!” Gabby screamed, running up to the crowd, pushing everyone aside. She looked at her uncle with huge blue eyes. “Why did you let Milli drown? I thought you could swim.”

  Knightengale growled. “She has a point, Marcus. Why did you let our little Milli drown?”

  “She didn’t drown.” His voice was harsher than he wanted.

  Gabby’s lower lip trembled as she pointed a little finger Milli’s way. “She’s wet!”

  Marcus took in a deep breath, watching Milli turn her back on him. He turned his anger on Knightengale and said in a voice for only his friend to hear. “She is not your little Milli.”

  Knightengale’s smile barely met his eyes. “Not yet. But she will be.”

  Marcus glowered at Knightengale, then at Hughmont who was patting Milli’s hand. Elizabeth and Jane were quickly by her side, mothering her. In no time at all, they had bundled Milli into the carriage, hurrying her home.

  After everyone packed up and left, Stephen turned to Marcus while they walked toward their horses. “There was no hole in that boat.”

  Marcus slapped a hand against his wet thigh. “How the devil would you know if there was a hole or not?”

  Stephen scowled. “Because I was watching you.”

  Marcus stiffened. “What?”

  “Someone had to keep an eye on you. And I saw everything.”

  “Everything?”

  Stephen’s lips thinned. “I could not hear every word, but I saw it all. I daresay, we thought we were to keep Milli from harm and you from danger.” He struck Marcus on the shoulder. “Yet it seems you are the danger.”

  Marcus shrugged. “You think too much.”

  Stephen stopped in front of him. “Devil take it! Kissing Milli was not in the cards.”

  Marcus set his chin. “Strike me again, and you are going home with a black eye. As for Milli, I will kiss whomever I want, and if that includes a pretty female who happens to be your ward, so be it.”

  “I’ll take the black eye!” The punch was quick and on target.

  Marcus staggered back, holding his face. “Hell’s teeth! I should box your ears for that!”

  “Go ahead and try. She is like a daughter to me, you . . . you . . .”

  “She is a woman! I am a man! It was bound to happen.”

  It has been happening beneath your very nose for the past few months, he wanted to say, but didn’t.

  Stephen clenched his teeth. “Thunder and Zeus, if you weren’t my brother . . .”

  Marcus was angrier with himself than with Stephen. But he needed to take out his frustration on somebody. “Well, King George, don’t let that stop you! I owe you a black eye anyway.”

  And the fight began . . .

  Chapter Twenty

  “By George, heard it was a rather good fight! It was quite the hum at the card room last night!”

  Milli grimaced as she walked about the Pump Room and listened to Lord Hughmont’s one-way conversation about the brawl between Marcus and Stephen. “I think I have heard enough, if you please.”

  Hughmont sipped some of the waters and sighed. “Jolly good show. Well, well, enough of that.”

  Milli wanted to give the appearance to all of Bath that nothing was amiss after that disastrous picnic. She put on her best face. Everyone seemed to be here today, including all the Clearbrooks and their spouses, all except Marcus. She had not seen him since the picnic yesterday.

  Milli looked over the crowd. The place was filling up fast. Voices blared above the music. Lady Bringston stood by the string quartet and waved across the room
as she spoke to Lady Philomena.

  Milli nodded. But in reality, she wanted to run the other way. Lady Philomena was the last person she wanted to talk to after yesterday’s fiasco.

  “They say it was a draw,” Hughmont blurted, not able to hold back. “Do you know who won?”

  Milli rolled her eyes. “For goodness sakes, no one won.”

  Hughmont pressed his lips together and was quiet.

  Milli looked up as Knightengale approached. “Hughmont, the duke wants to speak to you.” The man’s eyes gleamed with mischief.

  Hughmont sat his glass down and scowled. “What does he want now?”

  Knightengale smiled at Milli, then shifted his amused gaze back to Hughmont. “I daresay, my good man, I believe His Grace wishes to know your intentions.”

  Milli’s eyes widened and her mouth made a small “o”.

  Hughmont reddened. “I say . . . I say.”

  “I think you had best move to the duke’s tune,” Knightengale said, lifting a warning brow. “The man has been looking quite unhappy lately.”

  Hughmont turned to Milli. “I shall return shortly. Do not move from this spot.” And then he was gone.

  Milli blinked, saying nothing. One of these men could be the murderer. More than anything, she wanted them to play out their part. Breadford hadn’t been paying much attention to her lately. But Valford and Bennington had both taken her out for a walk this morning. As if he could read her thoughts, Valford grinned at her from across the room. She forced her lips to turn upward, but inwardly she felt as cold as ice.

  Knightengale led her to some chairs on the opposite side of the room. “Is there ever a time a gentleman is not with you? I can hardly get a word in edgewise.”

  Milli played with a wrinkle in her gown. “I believe my money draws them more than my looks.”

  He took her hand in his and kissed it. “You are by far the fairest woman here.”

  She let out a giggle, feeling quite at ease with the gentleman. “Oh, do go on, Lord Knightengale. Do go on.”

  He burst out laughing. “Your hair is like silk floating on the breeze. Your fine gray eyes are large and luminous, drawing any man into a trance.” His voice turned husky as he whispered in her ear. “Your tiny figure is delightful. Your skin is as white and soft as a—”