by Ava Stone
A masked fellow throwing daggers at would-be-thieves? What the devil? Greg blinked at his one-time-schoolmate. The man did appear to be serious. “Thank you for the warning. I’ll avoid the theatre while I’m in Town.”
“What does bring you to Town, old man?” Lockington asked.
Greg glanced across the room where it appeared Bella had been set upon by her brother. She flashed Greg an apologetic expression, though whether she was sorry she was stuck with her brother or sorry Greg had been waylaid by Sarsden and Lockington he had no idea. Actually, why were Sarsden and Lockington even there? This was just supposed to be a Winslett family gathering. Were they relations of hers? And if so, was it by blood or by marriage? Had to be the latter, neither of the men shared even a passing resemblance to his pretend fiancée. His gaze drifted back to the beautiful brunette. Damn it all, a man could get lost just looking at her.
“Avery?” Lockington said, bringing Greg back to the present.
“Apologies,” Greg replied. “What was that again?”
“I asked what brought you to Town.”
Oh, yes. He had asked that, hadn’t he? “My sister asked me to attend the season this year.” That was one of the more truthful answers he’d be able to give this evening.
“So we have Lady Clayworth to thank for your presence?” boomed an unhappy voice behind Greg.
“Your Grace!” Sarsden said quickly as Lockington’s eyes rounded in what looked like panic.
Chatham. After that afternoon, Greg would know the duke’s voice anywhere.
He glanced over his shoulder to find His Grace glaring quite pointedly at him. What a bloody perfect evening this was turning out to be. Dinner here, a ball at the Kelfields. It was a very good thing that as a betrothed man, he wouldn’t be required to attend societal functions. After tonight, he could hide in his study or library without having to explain himself for weeks.
Greg nodded tightly in greeting the duke. “Evening, Your Grace.”
“Shouldn’t you two be entertaining my granddaughters?” he said to the other fellows, who quickly turned tail and rejoined a pair of brunettes not far away. Then he leveled Greg with a look that would probably intimidate most men.
If Greg had truly been seeking Bella’s hand, Chatham’s look probably would have intimidated him; but as it was, he didn’t have to worry about spending the rest of his days as the duke’s relation, and there was a bit of freedom in that. “You wanted a word with me?” he guessed aloud.
Chatham’s eyes narrowed perceptibly. “I’m not a fool, Avery. I know something strange is going on, and when I figure out what it is, you’ll answer to me.”
“Something to look forward to, then,” Greg replied dryly. “Do excuse me, I believe my betrothed is waiting for me.”
“Just a bit,” Elliott pleaded. “You know I’m good for it, Bella.”
If her brother was good for it, he wouldn’t be asking her for her pin money, not that she even had it to give. “I purchased new oil paints last week. I don’t have anything left.” And she wouldn’t have a farthing more for another sennight.
With a dejected frown, Elliott looked out amongst the sea of people that were their relations. “I don’t suppose you could ask Father for a few pounds to tide you over, could you?”
He meant to tide him over. After all, there was nothing Bella needed to spend any money on, and she could easily wait until Papa replenished her funds. But Elliott was her brother and she did love him. As she was about to say that she would see what she could do, her brother’s eyes narrowed as though someone approached from behind her. Bella glanced over her shoulder and couldn’t help but smile at Gregory Avery. Honestly, he seemed more dashing and handsome each time she saw him, the way his dark jacket stretched across the expanse of his shoulders, the very hint of a dimple in his cheek, the soft twinkle in his eyes. She managed to keep from sighing, but just barely.
“Greg,” she breathed out as he reached her side and his hand landed on the small of her back, making a delicious shiver ripple across her skin.
“Who’s this fellow?” Elliott muttered.
“Don’t remember me, hmm?” Greg asked.
Elliott just stared blankly.
Bella heaved a sigh and quickly introduced them. “Elliott, this is Lord Avery. Greg, my brother Gillingham.”
“Avery?” Elliott echoed. “Went to school with a Tristan Avery.”
“My brother,” Greg replied.
But all Bella could do was gape at her brother. She’d already told Elliott that she was marrying Lord Avery. They’d already discussed the fact that Tristan and Russell, whoever Russell was, were Greg’s brothers. Why did it seem like all of this was news to him? “Remember I told you Lord Avery and I are betrothed, Elliott?”
And then a light lit her brother’s eyes. “You’re practically family, then.”
“I suppose so.” Greg frowned, which made Bella stare at the floor. Poor man, even pretending to be practically family didn’t seem to suit him.
“I don’t suppose, being family and all, that you’d mind lending me a few quid. I’m good for it.”
“Elliott!” Bella hissed, completely mortified by her brother’s behavior. And she wished a hole would open up in the floor and swallow her completely. Greg was doing so much for her as it was, but even if they were truly betrothed, for Elliott to beg him for money was beyond the pale.
Her brother, however, knew no shame at all, and shrugged in response. “We’ll be brothers soon enough.” Then he glanced at Greg. “If Tristan needed a few quid, I’m sure you’d give it to him, wouldn’t you?”
A muscle twitched in Greg’s jaw. “Aye, but I wouldn’t be afraid that Tristan would drink or gamble it all away in one evening.” Then he pressed gently on Bella’s back as though to guide her away from her brother. “Excuse us, will you?”
Just as they were out of earshot, Bella tried to apologize. “I’m so sorry about Elliott. He’s—”
“He’s a ne’er-do-well,” Greg finished for her.
He might be. But Elliott was still her brother. “He’s—”
“Your grandfather is suspicious of us,” he said, making her defense of Elliott die on her tongue.
Bella glanced toward the far side of the room where Grandfather was staring at her rather coolly. “Suspicious?”
“He told me as much,” Greg confirmed, and then said, “Who is Sarsden to you?”
Bella glanced across the drawing room again to the viscount in question. “He’s married to one of my cousins. Why?”
He frowned again. “I went to school with him. Saw him yesterday, in fact. I imagine he’ll be surprised when our betrothal is announced. He’ll wonder why I didn’t say something yesterday.”
Oh, no! Bell’s belly twisted and she thought it likely she might cast up her accounts this time. “What do we do?”
Greg lifted her hand to his lips and that shiver rippled through her again. Then he pressed a kiss against her knuckles. “If this is a love match,” he whispered against her skin, “we’d better act the part.”
And then he lowered her hand, and Bella blinked up at him. “Act the part?” she echoed him once more. Goodness, could she even have a coherent thought of her own?
His piercing green eyes focused so intently on her that Bella swallowed nervously. No man had ever touched her in such a way, and she had to remind herself that Greg was just acting the part. It was all just pretend, and her heart ached the tiniest bit, which was ridiculous. She barely knew Greg. There was nothing between them except a favor she could never repay.
“Smile,” he muttered under his breath. “Make them think we’re deeply in love.”
Except Bella had never been in love, deeply or otherwise, and she wasn’t sure what sort of smile was called for. It might be terribly easy to fall in love with him if she wasn’t careful, however. The way his touch affected her, the look of longing she saw in his eyes, the way he’d come to her aid like a knight in shining armor. She breathed in h
is sandalwood scent and smiled like she would have if all of this was real and they weren’t pretending. She smiled like the lady had done in the park yesterday as she’d sketched that couple.
Greg approved of the smile, she could tell by the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled himself.
“You’re a very good actor, Greg,” she whispered, and she couldn’t help but wonder once again why he was helping her.
Sadness flashed across his features but was gone a second later. She would have thought she imagined the look except he said, “I’ve had a lot of practice.”
What in the world did that mean? Had he done this before? Did he have a trail of pretend fiancées littered about England? Was that how Cordie Clayworth knew he’d be a willing participant? No. His sister had said Greg owed her husband a debt, hadn’t she? But what sort of debt could he possibly…
“Why are you helping me?” she asked. “I’m grateful, you know I am. But—”
The dinner bell chimed, interrupting her question.
“We’d best make our way in,” Greg said, offering his arm.
Bella had no other choice but to take it, and she allowed Greg to escort her into the dining room and to her place at the table. She was quite aware of her grandfather’s eyes on them, and her stomach knotted in response. The last thing she should be worrying about was why Greg was helping her. She should just be relieved that he was doing so, especially with Grandfather’s attention focused so pointedly on her. Goodness. What if he didn’t believe that she and Greg were truly betrothed? What if Lord Sarsden said something to reinforce Grandfather’s suspicious? What if he still forced her to marry Johann even after all of this?
“You may be wondering why you were all invited to dinner on such short notice.” Papa stood at his place, beaming proudly, his gaze landing on Greg and Bella, breaking her from her thoughts. “And I do thank you all for being here this evening. It is not every day that a man learns he will lose his daughter in marriage, and the fact that you’ve all come means—”
“For God’s sakes, Aylesford,” Grandfather snapped. “Arabella has landed Lord Avery. Have your man put less starch in your cravats. Sit down so we can eat.”
Papa paled slightly, but did take his seat amidst a chorus of gasps and sighs in the dining room. Across the table, Lord Sarsden’s eyes widened at the announcement, his dark eyes focusing quite intently on Greg. What if he said something now, in front of everyone? Oh, Bella, really might be sick.
“Congratulations, my dear,” Bella’s cousin Chase whispered from his spot beside her, putting her slightly at ease.
“Thank you,” she whispered back and caught Prissa’s gaze a few people away.
Her sister’s hand fluttered to her heart in surprise. Drat it all, if Bella had seen her sister at all before now, she would have broken the news to her privately.
Goodness! She hated lying. She hated deceiving her sister who looked so genuinely happy for her. The mere idea made a fresh wave of nausea wash over Bella. How could she face Prissa when all of this was over? How could she face Papa? But what other choice did she have?
“Are you all right?” Greg whispered just loud enough for her to hear.
Bella shrugged slightly. “I’m afraid I’m not very good at any of this.”
“It’ll get easier,” he promised. “After tonight, the worst of it will be—”
“Have you set a date?” Lord Lockington asked, his voice ringing out through the dining hall.
Once again, all eyes landed squarely on Greg and Bella. A date? Why hadn’t she thought about an answer to that? What if Papa wanted to acquire a special license and see her safely married to Greg before Johann ever stepped foot in London? What if right this moment—
“I sent word to my brother in Ireland this afternoon,” Greg replied smoothly. “As I’m most adamant my entire family be present for the services.”
Oh, that was a good answer.
“You have a brother in Ireland?” Grandfather spat as though the word was bitter on his tongue.
Greg nodded, once again seemingly completely unflummoxed by Grandfather’s temperament. “County Kildaire. Recently married. His wife’s family hails from the area.” Then he turned his attention once more to Lord Lockington. “Anyway, once I work through our collective schedules, Bella and I will make an announcement regarding the date. And, of course, we’ll need to speak with the rector at St. George’s and secure a spot.”
“Of course.” Lockington nodded as though that made perfect sense.
And it did, actually. Greg truly was amazing with how deftly he managed this situation and her family. He said he’d had lots of practice as far as acting the part went, and she suspected he was correct on that score. He seemed completely unfazed by her grandfather’s sharp tone and unkind words. Was that all an act too? Perhaps. Part of her didn’t care. She just wished she felt as confident as he seemed to.
Chapter 9
Greg watched Bella across the dimly-lit carriage and couldn’t help but wonder if the two of them would be able to pull off this entire endeavor. It would be easier, he supposed if he’d known her more than a day. She looked just as worried, as he felt. And that wouldn’t help their situation, not with her father planted next to her on the bench and not with her souse of a brother planted next to Greg.
They were about to make an official announcement about their betrothal in front of half the ton, or at least as many members of polite society as would be present at Kelfield’s, which might not be very many. But however many people were in attendance, tomorrow it would be quite known that Greg and Bella intended to wed. Greg’s stomach felt more than a little queasy at the prospect of lying to so many people and for who knew how long.
But in regards to queasiness, Greg shot his would-be brother-in-law a wary glance, hoping the man hadn’t imbibed so much over dinner that they were in danger of him casting up his accounts across the floor of the conveyance. There was, after all, only so much a fellow could take in that regard.
The coach rambled to a stop in front of Kelfield House, the lamps from inside casting a warm glow onto the stoop and walk below. The footman opened the door and Greg was quite happy to step from the conveyance. Honestly, the more distance he put between himself and Gillingham, the safer he and his wardrobe would be.
Greg offered his hand to Bella, and in the moonlight, her silvery eyes twinkled just so. The beauty of her almost took his breath away and he thought perhaps, with a bit of luck, they might be able to pull this off. Perhaps.
“Thank you,” she said softly as Greg helped her alight from the coach.
“My pleasure,” he replied and then placed her hand on his arm to lead her up the steps.
He knew her father and brother where somewhere behind them, as well as Sarsden, Lockington and their wives who’d followed in another coach, but Greg didn’t want to think about any of them. Doing so would only make him more nervous, and Bella was already trembling slightly, though he doubted anyone else noticed. He should be trying to put her at ease, but he felt far from at ease himself.
And then she glanced up at him, a beautiful smile on her lips and Greg’s mouth went a little dry. God in Heaven, she looked at him as though he was the noblest of heroes, and he wished that he was worthy of her expression. But he wasn’t noble, and he wasn’t a hero, not in the least. He wondered briefly if they could last the duration of their pretend betrothal without her ever being the wiser of that fact. And if they could, would it even be fair for her to think he was a better man than he really was?
Aylesford and Gillingham were now right on their heels as the Kelfield’s young butler ushered the lot of them inside the house and directed them toward the ballroom. Greg muttered their names for a footman at the entrance, who in turn announced the four of them quite loudly as they stepped over the threshold.
“Greg!” Olivia, the Duchess of Kelfield, appeared at his side a moment later. “Cordie said you’d be here soon. Thank you so much for coming.”
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br /> “Where else would I be?” he asked, though there were a number of places he’d rather be. Then he introduced Olivia to Bella and her family before looking out at the sea of people in attendance. A few years ago, the ballroom would have been more than sparse, but tonight it was quite filled. Was that all his sister’s doing? No, it couldn’t be. Cordie rarely left Clayworth House these days. There wasn’t any way she could be responsible for filling Olivia’s ballroom to such a level. “Where is Cordie?”
Olivia gestured across the way. “The last I saw her, she and Clayworth were keeping Tristan and Phoebe company.”
Tristan and Phoebe. The pair of them were looking directly at Greg, and his stomach twisted again. Phoebe wore the most confused expression, and Greg wasn’t certain how he was going to manage lying to his brother and sister-in-law for any amount of time, let alone weeks on end. Cordie, unfortunately, was not with them, however.
“Oh, I’m being summoned. Please do excuse me,” Olivia said as she stepped from their group. “But thank you so much for being here.”
As though Greg had been offered a choice in the matter. He glanced back toward his brother and sister-in-law, who were still staring quite pointedly at him. Damn it all. As they’d made eye contact with Greg, he couldn’t avoid going to them. Though he wished he could. He wished he could avoid the pair altogether this evening, but that wouldn’t be possible. Honestly, he should have been elated. He should be quite eager to introduce Bella to Phoebe as quickly as possible, as this pretend betrothal would keep his sister-in-law from thrusting anymore of her marriage-minded friends in his path. He should be walking on air, but—
“Oh,” Aylesford said in that soft, gentle way he said most things. “There’s Lady Staveley. I wonder if her husband is here too.”
Greg wasn’t certain he’d ever laid eyes on Lord Staveley. He could scan the room a hundred times and never know if the man was here or not. “No idea.”
“Well, I’ll go ask her,” Bella’s father said. “I found a book in the library this afternoon that I think he’d be quite interested in.”