by Ava Stone
“Mmm.” Greg spun her to face him and he tilted her chin up with the crook of his finger. “We are supposed to be in love. Have you ever been kissed before?” he asked, as his gaze drifted to her very pretty lips.
“N-no,” she breathed out, a bit nervously.
Greg suspected as much. “Close your eyes,” he directed softly. Then he dipped his head down and pressed his lips to hers.
Goodness. Bella’s eyes did flutter closed as Greg’s warm lips brushed against hers. Tingles raced down her spine and she had to grasp onto the edge of his jacket to maintain her balance. She’d never felt so exhilarated, so wanton, so…perfectly wonderful in every possible way.
Greg’s hand drifted to her waist and he urged her closer to him. The heat from his body warmed her through the silk of her gown. Her breasts felt heavier, her nipples tightened, and a pulse pounded in her core.
Then Greg groaned slightly against her lips, and the sound reverberated through Bella as she did her best to kiss him back. How fortuitous that Lord Sarsden needed to be convinced that they were in love. How much more convincing would he need? Hopefully, he needed more because Bella was certain she needed more.
But after a moment, Greg’s hand fell away from her back and the pressure of his lips disappeared. Bella blinked her eyes open once more to find him staring down at her with a most serious expression, almost as though he was in some sort of pain. Goodness, had she done something wrong when she’d kissed him back? Probably. She had no idea what she was doing, really.
Bella swallowed to gain her composure. She should probably apologize for her scandalous behavior but she couldn’t get those words to form on her lips. So instead she said, “Did he see us?” and sounded breathless to her own ears. But she couldn’t help it. He did take her breath away.
Greg’s gaze flashed to somewhere behind her and he sighed. “Yes, he just looked away.”
But he’d been watching them up until then? “Did we convince him, do you think?”
He glanced back down at her, his green eyes nearly stealing her breath once more. “I’m sorry if that was too forward. I wasn’t sure how else—”
“No.” Bella shook her head, not wanting to hear him apologize in any way for kissing her as it had been the most magical moment of her life. “We needed to convince him.”
“I’m nearly convinced myself.” Greg smiled down at her. “Are you ready to go back in there, face all those people again?”
Did they have to? She’d rather stay on the balustrade and kiss him for the rest of the night if that was an option. She didn’t, however, think it was. “We won’t have to stay much longer, will we?”
“You don’t care for these sorts of events?”
Bella shook her head. “I don’t generally mind them, but I don’t like having all the attention focused on me. It’s rather unnerving, don’t you think?”
“On that we can agree.” He then stepped away from her and offered his arm. “But keeping you here any longer could do real damage to your reputation. We don’t really have a choice but to rejoin them.”
She supposed he had a point. “Very well,” she said as she accepted his arm.
They rejoined everyone in the ballroom, but Greg did not relinquish his hold on Bella, which continued to make her heart flutter. What would it be like to have him court her for real? Would she feel even giddier than she did now? Was that even possible?
They strolled around the perimeter, greeting well-wishers every few steps, and Bella wished it was just the two of them, that she could talk to him without anyone overhearing them, that she could learn all there was to learn about him so that picture of him in her mind was perfectly clear, perfectly formed. But that was not to be, not with so many people crowding around them.
But tomorrow…
She’d head to Clayworth House tomorrow with her paints and canvas, and hopefully learn everything there was to learn about Gregory Avery.
“Oh good heavens!” came a scream at the same moment a loud crash sounded from the other side of the room.
Greg tightened his hold on her, and Bella’s heart nearly stopped as they looked toward the commotion. What in the world?
And then Elliott hopped up from the floor, his cravat drenched with punch and what looked like a number of cucumber sandwiches smashed against the sleeve of his jacket.
“Oh my goodness,” Bella breathed out, once again completely mortified by her brother and wishing that a hole would open at her feet and she could disappear.
“On that note,” Greg muttered, “we should probably find your father and call it an evening.”
Yes, they probably should.
Chapter 11
After being within reach of Greg all night, after waltzing with him, after kissing him, Bella felt rather alone as she climbed the stairs that led to her chambers at Chatham House. It was a night she would never forget, though she wished she could forget that last part with Elliott causing such a scene in the middle of Kelfield ballroom.
As soon as she entered her chambers, Bella found her sister, sitting in the middle of her bed. “All right.” Prissa brushed her dark tresses over her shoulder as she sat up straight. “Tell me everything. Every single detail. Don’t leave one thing out.”
Goodness, there was so much Prissa didn’t know, and so much Bella couldn’t really tell her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you before. I tried to find you before dinner.”
“Heavens!” Her sister’s silvery eyes twinkled. “You have nothing to apologize for, Bella I just want to hear it all now. How did you meet him? When? What did he say to Papa? Grandpapa has been in a temper all night, which doesn’t bode well for your Lord Avery, but—”
“Elliott made a fool out of himself again,” Bella said, halting all discussion about Lord Avery at least for the moment.
“He made a fool out of himself?” Prissa frowned. “What did he do?”
Bella crossed the floor and collapsed onto the bed beside her sister. “He was deep in his cups again.” She sighed as the embarrassing incident flashed once more in her mind. “He crashed into the Kelfields’ refreshment table and knocked everything to the floor. The ratafia, the sandwiches, everything.”
“Oh my goodness.” Prissa winced.
“Her Grace was very kind about the whole thing, but—” Bella shook her head “—it’s like Elliott doesn’t even realize what he’s done, Prissa. He laughed it all off and when Papa tried to grab him to bring him home, he refused to come with us, and he headed somewhere on his own.”
“Where?” Prissa’s hand fluttered to her heart.
“I have no idea.”
Prissa dropped back on the bed beside Bella with a sigh. “I miss the old Elliott. The one who read me stories and took me riding.”
“Me too.” Their brother hadn’t been that Elliott in a very long while, but it had happened so gradually, Bella couldn’t pinpoint when the change in him had actually occurred.
“Can’t he see what he’s doing to himself?” Prissa continued.
“I don’t think he can.” And that was the strangest or perhaps most heartbreaking part of all of it.
“How can he not?” Her sister frowned. “He’s back here instead of in his own lodgings. He’s completely out of funds. Today he begged me for my pin money.”
“He did the same to me.” Bella’s heart twisted at the thought of what her brother was doing to himself.
“I gave him everything I had.” Prissa pushed up on her elbow to better see Bella. “Did you?”
“I didn’t have anything left after the new oil paints last week.” She shook her head. “How much did you give him?”
“Five pounds.”
Bella doubted five pounds would get Elliott very far, not with the debt Grandfather mentioned a few days before. And certainly not if he drank or gambled it away instead of spending it wisely. The odds of him spending it wisely didn’t seem like a remote possibility. “He even asked Greg…Lord Avery for money this evening. I thought I might
die of embarrassment.”
“What did he say? Lord Avery, I mean?” Prissa asked, her light grey eyes wide.
“He told him no.” Though not quite so nicely, not that she could blame Greg for that.
“If we could talk to Elliott when he’s sober…”
A mirthless laugh escaped Bella. “When would that be, Prissa?”
“I don’t know.” Her sister sighed. “I haven’t seen him so recently.”
And neither had Bella.
“I’m so sorry he embarrassed you in front of Lord Avery.” Prissa shook her head. “Hardly the best welcome into the family.”
“Hardly,” Bella agreed. Greg was probably counting his blessings that their betrothal was only pretend.
“Enough about Elliott. We certainly won’t solve that problem tonight. And I want to hear all about Lord Avery. Every last detail.”
Bella’s belly twisted at the thought of lying to her sister. But it would be better for everyone, Prissa included, if she believed the same story everyone else did. It wouldn’t be fair, after all, to ask her sister to keep such a secret. “He’s incredibly kind,” she began. Because he was perhaps the kindest gentleman she’d ever met.
“And honorable, like you hoped for?” Prissa asked. “Does he love art? Does he treat you well?”
Bella laughed a bit nervously. “He enjoys art, like I do,” she lied. “And he’s more honorable than I have a right to expect.” That at least was the truth.
Prissa sighed with contentment. “He is very handsome. And he seemed so enamored with you over dinner.”
Yes, well, Greg was a very good actor, wasn’t he?
“How did you meet him? How did you bring him up to scratch so soon? Tell me everything.”
“Well, I actually met him at the Astwicks’. So thank you for forcing me to attend the other night.”
“You weren’t there very long.”
“Elliott made a scene that night as well.” Just the memory of it made Bella sick to her stomach.
“But it clearly didn’t matter if Lord Avery offered for you anyway.”
“We had such a nice conversation about painting techniques before Elliott did so,” she lied. “And—” Goodness, what was it Lady Clayworth had said? Oh, yes. “—It was love at first sight,” she continued. “Even after Elliott was awful, Lord Avery thought about me and sought me out this morning, professing his undying love.”
“True love triumphs over everything.” Prissa sighed wistfully. “And all before Johann arrives in London. Honestly, Bella, you are the luckiest girl alive. Do you know that?”
Bella felt far from lucky. Oh, she was fortunate Greg was willing to aid her temporarily, but in a few weeks, they’d go their separate ways and her good fortune would come to an end.
What the devil was Greg doing, standing outside a bawdy house in the middle of Covent Garden? He’d very clearly lost his mind. Whatever Gillingham was up to, was truly none of his concern. But he couldn’t shake Bella’s anguished expression from earlier that evening from his mind. And this was where the Chatham footman had suggested Greg search for his wayward would-be brother-in-law.
Out of nowhere, a dagger whizzed through the air and when an angry yelp echoed into the air, he realized some fellow in the shadows had almost been upon him. Good God!
And then a man in mask, all in black, raced past him after the cutpurse, leaving Greg to gape after the pair of them. For the love of God.
His heart pounded as he realized belatedly that he had, very foolishly, ignored Lockington’s warning about Covent Garden. There really was a man in a mask, throwing daggers at people. It was quite possible London truly was worse than he remembered.
“Visiting a brothel on the very day you get betrothed?” came an oh-too familiar voice from behind him.
Tristan.
“I hardly think that bodes well for your future.”
Greg glanced over his shoulder at his brother and frowned. “Following me?”
“Thought it might be the best way to get some answers.” Tristan shrugged as he closed the distance between them.
“Did you see that?” Greg stared off in the direction the dagger thrower and the thief had disappeared. ‘That fellow wielding a dagger?”
“The Covent Guard, they’re calling him.”
“He’s mad,” Greg breathed out, still a little shaken by the whole thing.
“Probably,” Tristan agreed. “It’s not Pappewick, Greg. You should take a care when frequenting low-rent brothels in the dead of night.”
Oh, for God’s sake. The dank hovel was hardly the sort of place Greg would frequent. “I’m looking for someone.”
Tristan snorted. “I’m certain there are several someones in there, but unless you’re looking to contract the pox…”
“Do I look like Russell to you?” Greg grumbled. “I have it on good authority Gillingham may be inside.”
“And you thought to do what? Wrestle him from some lightskirt’s bed?” Tristan’s brow lifted in question. “To what end?”
Dear God, Greg would rather not have that particular scene in his mind. “I was hoping to press upon the ne’er-do-well, that his actions are hurting his sister.”
“Yes, I imagine they are,” Tristan agreed with a sigh. “I also don’t imagine Gillingham will listen or that he cares overmuch.”
Tristan was most likely right about that, but Greg had to try to reason with the soused wastrel. Between Chatham and Gillingham, it was no wonder poor Bella was in her current situation. What decent fellow would want to throw his lot in with the likes of her tyrannical grandfather and her pickled brother for a lifetime? When this ruse of theirs was over, she’d be in exactly the same predicament she was in before their pretend betrothal, unless something changed. And that was hardly fair to her. She was a charming girl, delightful really, and she deserved better than wasting away to eventual spinsterhood thanks to her unappealing relations.
“Well, perhaps I’ll just beat some sense into him, then.” Greg lifted his hand to knock on the door.
But Tristan grabbed his arm. “Why don’t we wait for him to finish whatever he’s doing in there?” Then he gestured toward a carriage not too far away. Greg’s carriage with the Avery lion crest emblazoned on the side.
So Tristan had followed him in that? Greg had hired a hack to avoid detection in Covent Garden, but apparently his brother didn’t have the same concerns about being spotted outside a brothel in the dead of night.
“He may be more receptive to your suggestions if you wait,” Tristan continued.
Greg snorted in response. “You think I should spend the rest of my evening, sitting in front of a bawdy house, waiting for an inept drunkard to stumble back out?”
Tristan shrugged. “I am simply saying, Greg, that bounding through that door, dragging him from whosever bed he’s in and beating him to within an inch of his life will hardly garner you the results you’re looking for.”
Dragging the wastrel from a brothel and beating him within an inch of his life sounded like a decent plan. Perhaps it would shake some sense in to Gillingham. The damned fool. “And what makes you such an expert?”
Tristan shook his head. “I spent many more years with Russ than you did.”
Greg snorted again. That was true, but… “Certainly you’re not equating our brother with that degenerate.”
“No, no, of course not. Though there were a few times Russ might’ve come close to resembling Gillingham in his present condition.” He gestured to the coach once more. “Come on, I’ll keep you company while you wait.”
Greg heaved a sigh, but did make his way to the coach, Tristan by his side. He climbed in and took a spot on the bench so he’d have a clear view of the brothel’s entrance. How long could Gillingham even be? Especially in his condition? One wouldn’t think he’d be able to perform at all considering the fact that walking a straight line seemed beyond him when he’d stumbled out of Kelfield House a few hours ago.
Across the coa
ch from him, Tristan released a sigh. “You don’t plan on telling me anything?”
Greg flicked his gaze away from the brothel’s entrance to his younger brother on the opposite bench. “What do you want to know?” Though he had a fairly good idea exactly what was troubling Tristan.
His brother scoffed. “You could always start with the fact that you’re betrothed to Lady Arabella but neglected to mention anything about that to me before Kelfield made his announcement this evening.”
“Was that a question?”
Tristan sighed. “All right, I’ll re-phrase it, Greg. Why didn’t you tell me you were betrothed before Kelfield made that announcement to all and sundry?”
Greg supposed he should have expected his brother to be annoyed about that.
“I would think being your brother—”
“I hadn’t seen you until this evening. It wasn’t a slight, Tristan.”
His brother shook his head. “I knew you found her attractive the other night, but…”
Had it been that obvious? “But…?” Greg prodded when Tristan said nothing else.
“I’m just surprised is all.” His brother leaned back against the squabs, those green eyes of his studying Greg in the dim light. “You hid away at Rufford Hall for more years than were healthy and then you offer for a girl you barely know. It doesn’t seem like you, not in the least.”
I never thought you were the sort to put more thought into stocking your stables than in the selection of your bride, Avery. Sarsden’s words echoed in Greg’s mind. If he thought he could get away with telling Tristan the same thing he’d told his former schoolmate, he would have done so. But Tristan would never be appeased so easily.
“You don’t believe in love at first sight?”
Tristan sent him a glance that said very clearly he did not. “And neither do you.”
“Perhaps I’ve changed my mind on the subject since encountering Bella that first night.”
“Bella?” Tristan’s brow lifted.
“Just because you may not believe in it,” Greg continued evenly, “that doesn’t mean it isn’t possible, Tristan.” And then he heaved a sigh of his own. “She’s unlike any lady of my acquaintance. And I have fallen quite under her spell.” And even as Greg said the words meant to convince and appease his brother, there was a part of him that knew they were most definitely true. Bella Winslett wasn’t like any girl he’d met before and falling under her spell would be only too easy to do.