To Seduce a Bride

by Nicole Jordan

  Lily smiled at the surprise in his tone. “Of course you do. And I suspect her concerns about matrimony are based more on practical matters. Fanny thinks she cannot afford to marry you. She doesn’t know how she would earn a living. But if she no longer has to support her friends because of O’Rourke’s settlement, then she can curtail her expenses significantly. And she has her savings back now, thanks to her bargain with O’Rourke. If you could find employment that provides a higher income…Well, then, a marriage between you is not beyond the realm of possibility.”

  When a fragile hope shone in his eyes, Lily pressed harder. “So you see, if you leave now, Basil, you will never know what might have been between you and Fanny. You must stay awhile longer, no matter how painful it is at the moment.”

  His clutching fingers releasing his hair, Basil slowly nodded. “I think you may be right.”

  “I know I am right about this,” Lily insisted.

  Basil sank back in his chair, deep in thought. Then suddenly he took notice of the valise Lily had laid out on the bed and the neat piles of clothing that were stacked beside it.

  His brow furrowing, he glanced back up at her. “Why the devil are you packing?”

  The question made Lily recall her own troubles, but she tried to keep the despair from her voice when she replied. “I am returning to Chiswick in the morning. I plan to live with Tess for a while.”

  “You are leaving London?”

  Lily shrugged as she went back to folding the last of her gowns. “Why not? I have done everything I came here to do and more. I will be perfectly content to leave.”

  Which was a blatant falsehood. She was immeasurably happy that things had worked out so well for her friends, but otherwise she was perfectly miserable.

  “You just told me I could not leave,” Basil said slowly. “I think perhaps you should take your own advice.”

  Lily couldn’t meet his gaze as the ache in her throat returned. “The two circumstances are very different.”

  She felt Basil eying her. “Are they, Lily? I think our circumstances are closer than you are willing to admit.”

  Turning, she sank down onto the bed. It was true, she thought bleakly. She had insisted that Basil needed to remain in London, and so did she.

  She couldn’t leave Heath. She couldn’t bear to just walk away.

  She bit her trembling lower lip as she stared down at the carpet.

  When she remained silent, Basil’s tone became more insistent. “What are your feelings for Claybourne, Lily?”

  Her feelings? How did she answer that complex question? Her feelings for Heath were…complicated. Intense. Confused. Overwhelming. And in the end, so very simple.

  “Come now, you made me bare my soul.”

  She nodded faintly. Basil was one of her oldest, dearest friends, and she wouldn’t try to deceive him, even if she had been doing the same to herself for quite some time. But she couldn’t fool herself any longer.

  She loved Heath.

  She was dreadfully, desperately, painfully in love with him.

  Sometime in the past fortnight, the walls she had so determinedly built to protect herself had tumbled down, leaving her vulnerable and defenseless to his passionate enchantment.

  She had fallen in love with her determined suitor.

  The expression on her face must have satisfied Basil, for he softened his tone. “If you love him, will you accept his marriage proposal then?”

  Her fingers clenched on the gown she held. “I never thought I would marry,” she murmured hoarsely.

  A week ago she had been afraid to give herself to Heath in marriage, afraid to make the irrevocable commitment that would bind her to him for life.

  “Not all men are brutes like your father was,” Basil said quietly.

  Lily lifted her head, searching his sympathetic eyes. Basil understood her greatest fears. He had been the one to keep her company when she hid out in the stables during her parents’ battles, or rode hell for leather across the countryside in an effort to forget. He had been the one to console her when she’d threatened to kill her own father for his brutality toward her mother.

  “I know that,” Lily said shakily.

  “Claybourne is not like O’Rourke, either, even if he does know how to use his fists.”

  That was also true. Heath was no brute. He was a strong man who used his might carefully and wisely, and only when necessary.

  And sometimes violence was necessary, Lily thought, remembering the satisfaction she’d felt yesterday when she’d felled O’Rourke to prevent him from taking Fanny. She would have liked to do the same to her father all those years ago when he was beating her mother….

  “So what are you worried about?” Basil asked. “Claybourne isn’t the kind of man to hurt women, and you know it.”

  She did indeed know it, Lily admitted. Heath would never physically hurt her. Heath, who had been so tender and passionate with her. So protective, so generous.

  But what about emotionally? What if she married him? He would own her completely then, heart and soul and body.

  Basil, however, still was fixed on the physical threat a husband might present. “You can damn well hold your own with any man, Lily, you know very well.” His half-hearted smile was self-deprecating. “Unlike me. You are no weakling.”

  Lily tore herself from her own reflections in order to protest. “Basil, you are certainly no weakling. Claybourne has had years of training in swordsmanship and fisticuffs.”

  Basil nodded reluctantly. “I know. He fences at Angelo’s salle and strips with Gentleman Jackson.”

  “Yes. And you have not had the luxury of a nobleman’s life of leisure, as he has. Besides, you ride nearly as well as he does, and your mind is every bit as sharp.”

  Basil looked rather pleased by her observation. “So is yours, Lily. You are a match for him in so many ways.”

  Lily looked away. “I am not denying that.”

  “Then what is stopping you from wedding him? He would make a good husband for you.”

  She couldn’t deny that, either.

  “Are you afraid he doesn’t return your sentiments?”

  Lily swallowed. “Yes, I am afraid. Heath said he loved me, but what if he doesn’t truly mean it? Even ardent declarations of love from a man can prove false. Have you forgotten Arabella’s first fickle suitor, Viscount Underwood?”

  “Claybourne is nothing like that sorry weasel,” Basil said dismissively. “And I doubt he would say he loved you if he didn’t mean it.” Basil paused. “Do you want him to love you, Lily?”

  “More than anything,” she said softly.

  She had told herself she only wanted Heath’s passion, but she wanted his love. So much that it hurt. Lily felt a stab of longing so fierce that she pressed her hand to her stomach to ease the pain.

  At her silence, Basil shrugged and rose to his feet. “Well, Lily, only you can conquer your fears. You have to decide if the risk of marrying Claybourne is worth the gain.”

  He left her to her tumultuous thoughts then. Alone in her bedchamber once more, Lily found herself staring blindly out the window.

  Could she summon the courage to trust Heath that completely?

  On the other hand, did she truly have any choice? Even if being married to him might lead to pain, being without him would be infinitely worse.

  Since their parting yesterday, she had felt more alone than she’d ever felt in her life. She already missed him so much that she ached with it.

  She knew Heath was right on that score at least: spinsterhood would be cold comfort. She didn’t want to be alone and lonely for the rest of her life. Empty. The way she felt now.

  There were also numerous other reasons to accept Heath’s proposal, Lily reminded herself. Most of which he had already argued with her before.

  Unless they married, they could never have the intimacy she craved. They would be compelled to keep to the shadows, stealing a few precious hours now and then to be together. They co
uld never have children, a family.

  Passion was all they would ever have. And passion, no matter how pleasurable, wasn’t enough for happiness. Heath was right about that, too.

  And what of her fear of being treated as chattel? Even as the thought crossed her mind, she dismissed it. As Heath’s wife, she wouldn’t be shackled to him. He wasn’t likely to suddenly start controlling her and dictating to her and ordering her about. Not if he truly loved her. Rather, he would be her husband, her partner, her companion, her soul mate.

  And if she truly loved him, if she truly trusted him, she would swallow her fears and take the risk of marrying him.

  She did love him, she had no doubt whatsoever. Heath had made her dream dreams she hadn’t even known she wanted. Made her yearn for a future with him. He had touched something deep inside her. Something warm and wonderful and enchanting.

  You make me feel alive, he had told her only yesterday. You make me feel joyous and exhilarated, as if each day is a new adventure.

  Which was exactly how she felt about him.

  So, yes, Lily decided, a soothing feeling of calm settling over her. She was ready to take the risk and wed Heath. She was ready to trust in his love.

  Turning her head, she glanced at the clock on the mantel, wondering where he could be found just now. She needed to tell him of her change of heart right away.

  She might have to grovel a bit to make him forgive her, Lily suspected, remembering how cold and remote Heath had been when he had left her for the last time. But she would make him see that she regretted taking so long to come to her senses and to know her own heart—

  “Lily?” Chantel’s shaky voice broke into her thoughts.

  Lily looked up to discover that Chantel had silently entered her bedchamber. Her face was pale, and she was clutching something to her chest.

  The newspaper, Lily realized distractedly. “What is it?” she asked, suddenly concerned.

  “You need to see this….”

  Without another word, Chantel crossed to her and handed her the newspaper. It was this evening’s edition of The Star and was opened to the society page.

  “There,” Chantel said hoarsely, pointing to an announcement halfway down the page.

  The Marquess of Claybourne, Lily read, has the great pleasure of announcing his betrothal to Lady Eleanor Pierce, sister of Lord Danvers and niece of Viscountess Beldon. The nuptials will take place next month at the family estate of—

  The newspaper dropped from Lily’s nerveless fingers while the blood drained from her face. She tried futilely to catch her breath as she told herself there must be some mistake. Surely Heath was not planning to marry Lady Eleanor, even though it said so here in stark black and white—

  “I don’t understand,” Chantel said plaintively. “I thought Lord Claybourne wanted to marry you, Lily.”

  “So did I,” she rasped.

  “He won your game. He has the right to court you now. So why is he engaged to wed someone else?”

  She knew the answer. Because she had turned him down too many times. And she was now paying the price. Heath had decided he no longer wanted to marry her.

  A surge of panic slid up her spine. Heath had decided to marry Marcus’s beautiful, vivacious sister instead.

  He must have asked Lady Eleanor very recently, perhaps this morning or even yesterday. That was the only way he would have time to place the announcement in this evening’s paper.

  Lily brought a trembling hand to her mouth to silence the anguished cry she wanted to utter. She had no one to blame but herself, she knew. She had refused Heath’s offer of marriage countless times, until he had finally come to accept that she meant what she said.

  He had given up his pursuit of her entirely, just as he’d warned he would.

  She squeezed her eyes shut as the reality of what she’d done sank in. She’d had the promise of a lifetime of happiness within her grasp, and she had thrown it all away.

  How would she live without Heath? How could she bear it?

  Fear tightened in her chest until her heart hurt.

  “Do you know the most painful irony?” she whispered to herself. “When at last I understand my heart’s desire, it is too late.”

  She had been so determined never to trust him, never to open her heart to him, that she had lost him. Dear heaven…

  A sense of desperation washing over her, Lily shook her head in denial. She couldn’t lose him! She wouldn’t let Heath go without a fight.

  Lily rose abruptly to her feet, clutching the newspaper to her bosom.

  “Where are you going?” Chantel exclaimed to her retreating back.

  “To find Lord Claybourne,” Lily said fiercely. “He will not marry Lady Eleanor! He will only wed me!”

  Chapter Twenty

  He is my heart’s desire. I know that now at long last.

  —Lily to Fanny

  Desperation beset Lily all the way to Heath’s house in Bedford Square and only escalated when she arrived. A jaunty lady’s phaeton stood out in front, the dashing pair of grays held by a liveried groom.

  Wondering if the phaeton belonged to Heath’s new betrothed, Lady Eleanor, Lily descended from the hack and forced herself to approach the front door, where she applied the knocker.

  At least the Claybourne butler recognized her and admitted her without question. Yet the hollow ache in her stomach intensified when she was shown into a different room than before—a large masculine chamber that was obviously the master’s study.

  Lady Eleanor was there, lounging on a plush leather sofa while reading, her legs curled comfortably beneath her as if she belonged there as mistress of the house.

  Utterly dismayed, Lily halted on the threshold, wondering if she should turn and flee before she was noticed. But then the butler announced her, and she had no choice but to step into the room.

  Heath was seated at a massive desk, writing with a quill pen. Upon Lily’s entrance, he raised his head and studied her for a long moment. She couldn’t read his expression at all; his face was completely enigmatic, just as it had been yesterday.

  Lily’s heart sank even lower, if that were possible.

  She barely heard Lady Eleanor say in a pleasant tone, “Miss Loring, how good it is to see you again.”

  Striving futilely for composure, Lily murmured a polite reply as she curtsied. But she immediately turned her attention back to Heath. “Might I have a word with you in private, my lord?”

  Still watching her, he shrugged his powerful shoulders. “Why in private? I doubt you have anything to say to me that Eleanor cannot hear.”

  Lily regarded him with mingled anguish and frustration. “I saw the announcement of your betrothal,” she finally said.

  To her surprise and vexation, Lady Eleanor replied for him. “I gather you have some objection to our betrothal, Miss Loring?”

  “Yes…I do.” As she faced the raven-haired beauty, Lily clenched her fists, girding her loins, so to speak. “You cannot have him, Lady Eleanor. He is already spoken for.”

  Eleanor’s eyebrows shot up. “You are laying claim to my dear Heath?”

  “I am,” Lily said fiercely.

  The soft smile of satisfaction that touched Eleanor’s lips was utterly puzzling. “I told you so,” she said cryptically, glancing over at Heath. “You owe me that magnificent chestnut stallion of yours.”

  He nodded briefly. “Whatever you wish, minx,” he replied, never taking his eyes off Lily. “Now, if you don’t mind…”

  Eleanor laughed at his thinly veiled prodding. “Very well, I know when I am unwanted. I will leave you two to sort out your affairs.”

  Rising, Eleanor collected her book and pelisse and reticule without another word, but as she passed Lily, her smile was warm and kind, and she murmured, “Good luck,” as if she truly meant to wish Lily well.

  Bewildered, Lily turned back to Heath. He had risen to his feet but remained behind his desk. She took a step closer, her heart thudding, her knees weak, he
r stomach tied in knots.

  “What did she mean?” Lily asked unsteadily, “when she said ‘I told you so’?”

  “It is no matter. Why are you here, Lily?”

  His tone was hardly encouraging. She hesitated a long moment before replying, “To put an end to your betrothal. You cannot marry Lady Eleanor.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I want to be your wife.”

  The interval before Heath spoke seemed interminable. “Indeed. What caused your change of heart? I seem to recall asking you to marry me numerous times, and you refused every time.”

  “I know.” Lily tried to swallow, even though her throat was dry as dust. “But I realized…I love you, Heath.”

  His expression never changed, except that his gaze seemed to sharpen. “I don’t know that your love will be enough, Lily.”

  “N-not enough?” she repeated, her voice quavering.

  “I told you, I want your trust as well.”

  “You have my trust, Heath.” Words crowded into her throat but weren’t even close to being adequate. “I know I was wrong to fear you. You would never deliberately hurt me.”

  His expression softened the slightest degree. “How gratifying that you finally comprehend that.”

  Lily nodded in agreement. “I have been a fool, I know that now. You were right. What we have is unique and rare. Something so perfect comes along once in a lifetime. I cannot throw it all away because of fear.”

  “It would indeed be foolish of you.”

  “Yes. Yesterday…” She hesitated several more heartbeats before she found her voice again. “Yesterday you said you loved me. Do you love me enough to give me a second chance?”

  Her heart leapt at the warmth that suddenly shone in his eyes, even though he didn’t answer her directly. “I find your nervousness very endearing, sweetheart.”

  Fear and hope tangled inside Lily. “I am not nervous. I am terrified that I am too late.”

  “So this is a proposal of marriage?” he asked as he moved out from behind the desk and came to stand before her.

  “Yes.”

  Heath pursed his lips thoughtfully. “So say the words, Lily. I have done my fair share of proposing. I believe it is your turn.”