by Diana Quincy
Pen guffawed, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll say.”
A sense of exultation took root in him. She was his.
She had been all along.
Basil eyed him. “You are acquainted?”
“Yes.” He answered somewhat absently returning his gaze to Mirabella. His wife. “Although I did not know it was she.” He watched her male companion take Mirabella’s elbow in a manner too proprietary for his liking. The way she smiled up at Orford, with obvious warmth glazing her eyes, made jealousy course through him.
“She means something to you,” Basil said with dawning awareness. “Does she return your interest?”
His gaze did not leave Mirabella. “I suppose you could say that.”
Basil’s mouth broadened into a smile of genuine delight. “Perhaps your worries all these years will have been groundless.”
A seed of mistrust took root in Sebastian, usurping his sense of surprised elation. Mirabella’s note just this afternoon claimed her return would be delayed. And yet, here she appeared, on the arm of another man. And she’d been in town for at least three days when he first spotted her at the opera. Perhaps even longer. She’d lied to him. Why? To spend a few more nights with her paramour?
“Well, there is no time like the present,” Penrose quipped, raising his glass in salute. “Go introduce yourself and take your bride to bed.”
Lust overtook Sebastian as that particular truth washed over him; the manly part of him stirred with impatience. He could have her in his bed this very night and take her as many times as he cared to. He would be well within his rights. But the haze of lust gave way to burgeoning anger. Reality tempered his baser instincts, forcing the return of his senses. His wife could not be trusted. She’d lied to him about her return. He wondered what other things she would be deceitful about. Who was she really? What were her intentions toward him? He had to find out.
Then, and only then, would he introduce himself and take his wife to bed, at last claiming what had been rightfully his all along.
Chapter Five
Bella laughed with delight when the sky exploded in a blaze of light and color.
“How fantastic!” Her face remained skyward, the wind breezing through her hair as Orford twirled her around the dance floor.
He smiled down at her. “Vauxhall’s fireworks pale in comparison to the loveliness I behold in my very arms.”
She laughed again, feeling free, reveling in the movement, the cool air and the spectacular show above them. “I wish this evening would never end.” She felt a sudden pang. “That tomorrow would never come.”
“You will have to go to him eventually.”
“I’ll thank you not to remind me of my duty just yet. I have a few more days of freedom before I must endure him.”
When the music came to an end, Orford tucked her arm into his elbow. “Until then, I shall have you all to myself.” He escorted her from the dance floor. “Perhaps our final time together.”
Faint panic fluttered in her chest. “Nonsense, you are my cousin. We shall continue to see one another.”
“Not if he sees how much I care for you. He could command me away from you.”
“He would never do that.” But she knew he could and very well might.
“Of course not.” Orford patted her hand. “No doubt I’m worrying over nothing.”
She knew he meant to be reassuring, but instead he had resurrected a nagging fear that her husband would be overbearing. That he would command her life, her friends, would dictate who she could and couldn’t see.
“Let’s rejoin the others. I see them over on the other side of the dance floor,” he said.
She looked across to see their friends. Monty, Tabby, and Josette seemed to have made new acquaintances. Two young bucks hovered around Josette, which came as no surprise. The French woman was lovely and had perfected the art of flirtation. “I want to stand here and enjoy the last of the fireworks. Won’t you be a dear and wave them over?”
“Very well,” Orford said. “I’ll go and signal to them.” He gave her a quick peck on the nose. “I shall return, ma belle.”
Smiling after him, Bella wrapped her arms around herself and gazed up at the explosion of light above her, trying to ward off a sense of aloneness.
“It is quite spectacular.”
A shiver ran through her. She knew that voice. It had echoed in her memory for days. She turned toward it. “Stan.”
“You know my name?”
“I heard your friend refer to you as such.”
“I see. However, I do not know yours. It seems you have me at a distinct disadvantage.”
Buoyed by his presence, she smiled at him. Another crackle of noise sounded above them, drawing her attention to the final blast of fireworks lighting up the sky. “How beautiful.”
“My thoughts exactly.” His voice, deep and self-assured, was almost without inflection. With his contemplative gaze fastened on her, he didn’t seem to be referring to the fireworks. “You know my name. May I have the honor of knowing yours?”
His proximity, his overwhelming masculinity, made it difficult for her body to perform the everyday functions of life she normally gave no thought to, things like breathing or blinking. “Mirabella,” she said. “Bella.”
“A lovely name for a lovely lady.” His eyes moved past her and seemed to darken. She followed his gaze to see Orford and her other friends coming toward them. Disappointment surged through her. It was wrong, but she wanted these last moments with Stan before she returned to reality. To Sebastian, her husband.
He offered his arm. “Would you care to walk, Miss—”
She took his solid arm, feeling its strength beneath her fingers. “Just Bella, if you don’t mind. It’s terribly incorrect, but I feel as though we are friends.”
“Indeed.”
He led her away from the edge of dance floor down one of Vauxhall’s many leafy paths. They walked in silence for a few moments. Bella’s body was alive to the sensation of having Stan beside her. What he must think of her to be walking alone with him down this secluded walkway where couples were known to steal more than kisses. “You no doubt think the worst of me, allowing you to escort me alone here.”
He gazed at her, an inscrutable expression on his face. “I realize quite suddenly that I could never think ill of you.”
Bella exhaled. She believed him. They walked along the path in an easy silence.
“Does your husband not mind?”
Her muscles tensed at the mention of Sebastian. Did he mind? Apparently not. He had never come for her, hadn’t even bothered to consummate the marriage once she’d come of age.
She realized Stan was looking at her, awaiting a response. “I cannot say.” She felt tears welling in her throat. “He…he does not concern himself with my activities.” He frowned but said nothing to fill the silence. To her horror, Bella felt dampness on her cheeks. She brushed it away with her hand.
Halting, Stan faced her. His warm, large hand clasped hers as it rested on his arm. “You are distressed.”
She forced a laugh, ignoring the way her heart ached with more unshed tears. “How silly of me. It is the way of an arranged ton marriage, I suppose.”
His eyebrows drew together. “I am sorry for your distress. Truly.”
She regarded him with astonishment. “It is not your fault. You have been nothing but kind.”
He shook his head. “I thought it was so, but I’ve been so very wrong.”
“No, you mustn’t think such a thing.” She reached for his hand with both of hers. His large hands instantly enveloped hers, wrapping around her smaller fingers, encasing them in warmth. Something splashed down on their joined hands. To Bella’s mortification, it was more tears. She never cried. She sank onto a bench. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”
He sat next to her, his intense gaze riveted on her face. “Has it been so very terrible?”
“Bella?” Orford’s voice sounded from th
e walkway. “I think I saw her come this way.” Josette and Tabby’s chattering voices murmured in response.
“Maybe she is down there.” Monty’s voice.
Bella rose. “I must go.”
He stood with her. “Wait.” The words were urgent. “There is something I must tell you.”
“Bella!” Josette called.
“My friends are looking for me. I cannot stay here with you.”
“Will you meet me on the morrow?” he asked, his expression intent.
She shook her head, well aware she must not see him again. “No, I cannot. It would not be right.”
“Bella?” Orford’s voice again.
“Mon dieu, I think I hear her over there,” Josette’s voice answered.
“One final time,” he said. “I have something of utmost importance to share with you. I would never dishonor my wife. I swear it.”
“The lending library,” she heard herself say. “Eleven o’clock.”
From the lending library, he took her to a park she had never visited before—a small but well-kept space with flowering bushes forming cheerful ribbons of color along the walking paths. Shades of yellow, white, and lilac streamed far ahead of them before disappearing into a copse of trees.
“Oh, it is lovely.” Closing her eyes, she breathed in the mingled scents of lilacs and lilies.
Stan smiled, a lone dimple creasing high on his right cheek. “I hoped it would be to your liking. Fernwood Park is renowned for the beauty of its landscape.”
They strolled up a small hill, following a well-worn path. He walked beside her, his posture perfect, hands clasped behind his back. Bella slid a quick glance at him underneath her lashes, her heart quickening at the way his fawn-colored breeches skimmed over those substantial legs. He wore a chocolate-brown tailcoat and the sun gleamed off his tasseled Hessians.
“In the Spanish countryside, they have the most beautiful flowers,” she said, forcing her attention away from the effect Stan’s nearness had on her. “Many are wildflowers, of course, but I think that is when things are at their most beautiful, wild and untamed.”
Stan stopped to pluck a white bloom and handed it to her, their fingers brushing. The hot slide of his skin against hers sent warmth tingling low in her belly. Astonished by the strange sensation, she brought the bloom to her nose, inhaling its sweet scent, masking her bewilderment at how his slightest touch could affect every part of her. Even deeply private bits she hadn’t really been aware of until now.
“Have you traveled widely?” he asked.
“Yes,” she managed to answer. “Spain, Belgium, and France, now that the war has ended.”
“Then you enjoy traveling.” He took the flower and tucked it behind her ear. His fingers brushed against the tender curve of skin, awakening the sensitive spot there, the flower’s soft petals brushed a sensual sweep against her skin.
If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was flirting with her. He did seem freer with her today than he had in the past. She shook the thought away. Although she didn’t know the gentleman well, he did project an innate decency that left her unable to fathom him acting in an inappropriate manner. “I was at loose ends. I had nowhere else to go.”
His dark brows knit together. “Surely you’ve always known you have a home with your husband.”
Closing her eyes, she tilted her face upward, letting the sun’s warmth caress her skin. The last thing she wanted to talk about was him. She spread her arms out to her sides soaking in the comfort of the midday rays. She twirled, savoring the feeling. “In Spain, we would picnic often in the country when the weather allowed. I relished running among the wildflowers, it made me feel so free.”
“Do you crave freedom, Bella?”
Her chest constricted at the tender expression on his face. She stopped twirling and looked off, her gaze following the cascading color of flowers running down the hill. “Perhaps I do.” Then someone like Stan could openly court her. “I’ll never have a season. No gentleman with honorable intentions will ever pay me his addresses.”
“You would have been the season’s incomparable.”
She smiled at the thought. “Do you think so?”
“Undoubtedly. The reigning beauty of the ton with all of the young bloods vying for your heart.”
“And who would win me? The most handsome among them or the one with the highest title?”
“The one who loved you with all of his being.” A fierce note edged his soft voice. “Who would treasure you as you deserve.”
A wistful feeling tugged at her. “And, by now, there’d be a brood of children filling our home.”
“Beautiful little girls with their mother’s fire.”
She pictured little girls with soft auburn curls. Only in her mind’s fantasy, her sons had bronze skin and dark curls. And the greenest eyes. “Ten children.”
That startled a laugh out of him. “As many as that?”
“For a start. I’ve always wanted lots of children.” Her face warmed with embarrassment and yet it seemed right to do so with him. “I never had a real family. It was just me and the du…my father. He was never in residence. So I always dreamed of making my own tribe.”
“A dozen children is it, then,” he said softly.
“And I shall grow so very fat from bearing all of those babies.”
He gazed at her, the sun shining in his emerald eyes, infusing them with golden accents. “And he will look at the mother of his children and still see the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes upon.”
“Ah.” Her heart moved a little faster at the seriousness of his expression. “His love will be as blind as that?”
“Undoubtedly. And he’ll thank the Fates for having blessed an undeserving wretch like him with such an exquisite gift.”
Her chest stretched with feeling. “It is a lovely dream.”
“One day you shall have it.”
“Perhaps, the children part and certainly a husband.” But hardly adoring. She forced the melancholy away. “Tell me about your wife. I’m curious to know what sort of woman would capture your attentions.”
An admiring warmth glazed his eyes. “In truth, I am just beginning to know her.”
“Are you newly married?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
And yet he was here, keeping company with her. “Was it a love match?”
“Our fathers arranged the union. We didn’t meet until shortly before our nuptials. I admit to being angry and resentful at first.” His expression turned tender. “But I’m coming to seeing the rightness of their decision.”
Bella’s heart did a clumsy flop at the obvious affection in his voice when he spoke of his wife. “You have come to care for her.”
His lips curved upward, that lone dimple on his cheek deepening. “Yes, indeed. More so each day. I’m coming to realize how remarkable she truly is.”
Jealousy slashed a jagged path inside her stomach. She’d misinterpreted his feelings. He obviously cared for his wife. “She is most fortunate.”
His smile took a cynical curve. “I am not certain she would agree. And what of your husband?”
She shrugged and turned away to continue walking along the path. “Honestly, I don’t know him. We were married when I was just a child. I had no hand in it. I barely knew what was happening at the time.”
“Do you resent it?” Urgency edged his voice. “Has he restricted your freedom?”
The helpless anger she always felt at her husband’s abandonment reared within her. “No, he has given me freedom quite by accident I think, through his neglect.”
“Neglect?”
“I doubt he cares. Even for my innocence. He would not have sent me away and kept me away for so long if he did.” She forced a harsh laugh. “He didn’t even bother to send a suitable chaperone to ensure my decorum. I am a complication that he must endure to have what he truly wants.”
Stan’s entire body stiffened, a disturbing energy radiated off
him. “And what is that, do you think?”
His reaction warmed her. How kind of him to be angry on her behalf. “My dowry, the kind of influence and consequence the nephew of a marquess could never have dreamed of.”
The lines in his face deepened into a grave frown. “Perhaps once the two of you are acquainted, you will develop a better understanding of his true nature.”
“You are a good and kind man.” A feeling of tenderness welled up in her. “You could never understand someone such as my husband. Sebastian has made his true nature known simply by his absence. I haven’t seen him since our wedding day.”
The skin over his angular jaw stretched taut. “It is possible you have misjudged his intentions.”
“Your generosity of spirit toward my husband is truly that of a fine gentleman.”
He halted and planted his hands on his hips. “This has gone on long enough.” He exhaled in a slow deliberate motion, as though he needed to draw strength. “Bella, there is something I must tell you.”
Nerves twisted in her chest at his somber expression. Suddenly, she felt wary. She didn’t want to know what he had to say. “Enough serious talk.” Anxious to change the subject, she eyed the picnic basket in his hand and forced gaiety into her voice. “What have you got there? I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”
“I must tell you the truth…about my wife. About who I am.”
“No.” She shook her head forcefully. No truths mattered. After today, she would return to her husband. She wouldn’t see Stan again. She didn’t need to know anything about him. “Just for today, let us enjoy this afternoon. Reality will intrude eventually, but not just yet. Let us just enjoy a meal among the flowers and sunshine.”
His tense expression softened. Following her lead, he said, “I believe my cook has prepared cold chicken, cheese, bread, and some tarts for dessert.”
They found a spot to set up their picnic. Stan laid out a blanket and knelt to pull food out of the basket, organizing the items in a neat arrangement.
She watched, amused. “You certainly are very exacting with your placement of things. A picnic is not usually so orderly.”
