In theory, the plan had seemed perfect, but it was harder to execute with a real lady, and one he was drawn to, at that.
“News spreads fast. I don’t want to see an innocent ruined by his actions.” Alex lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “How are we going to get you through this scandal unscathed? I saw how upset you were in the ballroom.”
She shivered as if still cold.
“Let me help. We may be able to agree upon a mutually satisfactory solution.”
Claire tilted her head to the side and delivered a mulish look. This woman had a backbone and had recovered from the earlier torment. She wasn’t going to take his proposal lying down like some simpering miss. An immense sense of pleasure rushed through him at the sight of her newfound confidence. He vowed not to allow her to fall prey to Lord Paul.
“Lord Pembrooke, what precisely do you want? If you seek something degenerate, you are mistaken if you think I’d agree.”
“I have no more depraved designs on you than I have on any other young lady in the ballroom.” His body was telling him differently, but he was a gentleman and would never act on it. “My motives are honorable.”
“Why?” She crinkled her brow. “Why help me?”
“Simple. You’re a lovely woman who deserves a better life than what Lord Paul can offer.” He summoned a smile designed to convince her of his sincerity. “You should go back into the ballroom and announce you’re jilting him for another. I’ll stand by your side.”
“I see. Your suggestion is that in front of Lady Anthony’s guests, I personally ruin myself by announcing I’m throwing Lord Paul aside. What will that accomplish but feed the curse?” Claire’s voice held an edge of cynicism. “Did someone put you up to this?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “With my luck I should have expected this type of play. See how many men she can lose. Which club holds the bet? White’s? Brooks’s? What’s the payout?”
“Stop, my lady. Any man would be honored to call you his wife.”
Her lips parted on a sigh as if she didn’t believe him.
Something much like chivalry rose within him. How had a dissipated rake such as Lord Paul sunk his claws into such a wonderful creature? “The truth is I’m trying to save you from another humiliation. Break with him. Now. Tonight. Before anyone knows what he’s done.”
Faint thunder rumbled, and a flash of lightning followed far off in the west. The ornate lanterns bobbed up and down from the sudden gust of wind. Claire’s head jerked in the direction of the coming storm, and her face blanched.
He was losing her interest. “Lady Claire, my reputation suggests I’m honest and above suspicion. Just ask my friends.”
There were only a few he considered to be worth his time. Since Lord Paul’s betrayal, his only close friend was Somerton.
Alex smiled in earnest. “I would never allow you to be humiliated in front of society. I’m trying to help you.” Somehow, he had to convince her of that fact, then the idea of marrying him would be much easier to accept.
She blinked rapidly, then turned back to him and, for an instant, appeared startled to see him there. “That’s very gallant, my lord. Truly, thank you for the effort. But I must leave.”
This night could not end with her escaping, so he tried another tactic. “You need to protect your Wrenwood estate and your wealth from lechers who would feed upon your vulnerability. Not to mention stop that ridiculous curse.”
“I have two.” She held up two gloved fingers.
“Two? Two what? Curses?” No one at his club had uttered a peep about another curse.
“Estates. I have two estates, Wrenwood and Lockhart.” She returned his stare.
Her answer was unexpected, but his business experience had taught him to show nothing. The report from his private investigator had not mentioned additional properties. Thoughts were percolating if she chose to disclose this information.
A razor of lightning split the sky. She flinched and took a step closer to him, but her reaction had nothing to do with him. It was the storm.
Her gaze darted to the exit of the alcove, then she returned her attention to him. With a slight shrug of her shoulders, his evening coat fell into her hands. She offered it to him. “My lord, good night.” Outside their hideaway, the voices of a man and a woman floated in the air.
Alex put his hand on her shoulder to prevent her escape. “Will you give me some assistance? I seem to have lost my valet.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Besides, if you leave now, whoever is out there will see us.”
She ventured a halfhearted grin and held his garment in two hands. With a little persistence, he wrestled his way into the evening coat. Her hands smoothed the material across his shoulders and back, causing a pleasant sensation to cascade through him at the slight touch.
Claire took several steps toward the pathway. In a flash, he moved beside her and grasped her elbow. When he brought her close, something flared between them as he gazed into her haunted eyes. Whether the desire to keep her next to him was passion or the need to protect a vulnerable woman made little difference. He pulled her into the shadows and brought his mouth to her ear. “Wait until they pass.” The warmth from her skin beckoned.
A flash of lightning lit the gardens and the alcove.
With a gentle hand, he pushed her against the wall and stood to the side so he blocked her body from view.
A clap of thunder cracked as if the sky were breaking. It rolled into a loud rumble that refused to die.
“Please.” Her whisper grew ragged as she struggled for breath. In one fluid motion, she pulled the lapels of his evening coat toward her. She buried her face against his chest and pressed the rest of her body to his, almost as if she sought sanctuary inside. “Don’t leave me.” Her voice had weakened, the sound fragile, as if she’d break into a million pieces.
“I won’t. I promise.” Alex pulled her tight. One hand sank into the soft satin of her skirts while the other slid around the nape of her neck to hold her close to his chest. It was the most natural thing in the world to hold her. Her body fit perfectly against his.
With the slightest movement, she pulled away. Her eyes wildly searched his. For what, he couldn’t fathom.
He lowered his mouth until his lips were mere inches from tasting her. Madness had consumed him. All he wanted was to kiss her thoroughly until she forgot her fear—until she forgot everything but him.
Her breath mingled with his, and the slight moan that escaped her was intoxicating. Nothing in his entire life felt as right as this moment. He bent to brush his lips against hers.
“Pembrooke? Have you seen Lady—”
Claire leaned back and released his lapels. Without her warmth, he experienced a sudden loss of equilibrium. He turned with a snarl to greet the intruders.
Immediately, Lord Fredrick Honeycutt and his sister, Lady Sophia, took a step back as their eyes grew round as dinner plates.
The first to recover, Honeycutt announced, “I see you found Lady Claire.” He bowed his head slightly, then lowered his voice. “The Duke of Langham is looking for his niece and is directly behind us.”
A sense of wariness flooded Alex’s mind when Claire’s uncle strolled forward and came into sharp focus. As he stood, his feet spread shoulder width apart, the duke’s presence commanded everyone’s attention. His visage held the hint of a smile, but the two large fists resting by his sides were the real barometer of his mood. “Claire, are you all right?” The affection in his voice was at odds with the fury flashing in his eyes.
“I’m fine.” She stepped out of Alex’s shadow but stayed close to his side.
Surprised by her decision not to run to her uncle, Alex placed his hand on the small of her back to give her courage.
Claire’s cousin Michael Cavensham, Marquess of McCalpin, stopped abruptly at his father’s side, followed by his younger brother, Lord William. Both men stood approximately the same height as the duke.
With grim amusement, Alex considered how he might scale such a
wall of Cavensham men and come out alive.
A faint rumble of thunder faded. Even the elements of nature were leery of a confrontation with the duke and his sons.
“What are you doing with my cousin?” McCalpin made a move to charge Alex, but the duke held his arm out to warn his heir away.
Lord William stood on the other side of his father. The duke’s youngest child, Lady Emma, joined their group. She called out, “Claire? Do you need my help?”
Alex fully expected Claire to launch into some type of explanation as to why they were alone. Instead, with a slight tilt of her head, she turned so her back faced the gathering gawkers. If it was a move designed to safeguard him, she needn’t have bothered. He’d shield her from the growing crowd.
“I’m sorry.” Her warm breath caressed his cheek much like a kiss.
“Don’t be,” he whispered. With a slide of his hand, he took hers. With their fingers intertwined, he gently coaxed her to stand by his side. He raised her hand to his lips in a slow motion so the crowd had an unfettered view.
Her eyes widened.
“Everyone, please give us your attention.” His deep voice carried through the garden so even the stragglers heard. He held her gaze and smiled.
The crowd quieted.
“It gives me great pleasure to announce Lady Claire’s engagement to Lord Paul officially ended tonight.”
“Have you lost your mind?” she whispered.
Murmurs broke through the gathered assembly.
Claire tried to break free of his grasp, but he refused to let go and gently squeezed her fingers. “Trust me.” The soft words held a tenderness only for her. To the throng, he continued in a voice that resonated. “Because Lady Claire has agreed to become my wife.”
Honeycutt’s eyebrows hit the top of his forehead, while his sister seemed ready to twirl into a faint.
Emma darted forward into the alcove. “Claire!”
McCalpin followed Emma. “Pembrooke, so help me God, if this is your idea of a joke…”
Langham pushed his way into the arched doorway, and the breadth of his shoulders hid the view from the onlookers. “Sweetheart, what is this?”
Alex answered before she could respond. “I’m protecting her from being dishonored by a morally bankrupt rake.”
The duke raised an eyebrow. His skepticism melted into a mask of ducal haughtiness. “Lord Pembrooke, I shall see you at Langham Hall tomorrow to discuss your obligations to my niece.”
“It will be my pleasure, Your Grace.” He turned and, without a care who witnessed his next move, brought his mouth to Claire’s ear. With the slightest touch, he caressed her lobe with his lips. “You will not regret tonight. I swear it.”
“You’re wasting your time.” She walked toward her uncle and never looked back.
Relief coursed through Alex’s blood. He had accomplished tonight’s goal with the unsuspecting help of Honeycutt. Marriage to Lady Claire might have been by a circuitous route, but forcing her to marry him saved him the time of a long courtship and enduring ridiculous talk of the curse from the ton.
With an abundant sense of satisfaction, he left the alcove. When he passed a sculpture of Eros, the distinctive curl of its marble lips drew his attention.
The damn thing grinned at him.
* * *
The carriage rocked gently as the team of four brought Claire closer to Langham Hall. Once she reached the solitude of her bedchamber, she’d concentrate on tonight’s events. When she’d left her home earlier this evening, her future husband was Lord Paul. Now Lord Pembrooke had declared to the world, or at least to the majority of Lady Anthony’s guests, that she would marry him. She struggled to understand this topsy-turvy upheaval in her life. Thank heavens a canopy of starlight had replaced the earlier storm.
She sat beside Uncle Sebastian, her father’s brother and the current Duke of Langham. His arm around her gave her the courage to face her distraught aunt.
“Tell me what happened.” Aunt Ginny sat on the edge of her seat, waiting for every word. The worry in her voice cautioned Claire to proceed gingerly with her explanation.
“There’s not much to share. Lord Paul broke the engagement.”
“I’ll skewer him like a piece of meat,” Uncle Sebastian announced.
Aunt Ginny inhaled sharply.
“I couldn’t face another joke over the Lady Claire Curse,” she murmured, her voice raw. She forced the unruly mass of humiliation marching through her stomach into submission. “Lord Pembrooke escorted me outside, then Lord Honeycutt, his sister, Uncle Sebastian, and the others found us.”
“My dear girl…” Aunt Ginny squeezed her eyes shut and grabbed Claire’s hand. “Did you kiss him?”
“It might have appeared so, but I assure you he was helping me. He acted honorably this evening. He was the one—” Claire swallowed hard. “He knew about Lord Paul before I did. He wanted me to announce I broke the engagement before people learned Lord Paul would not appear this evening.”
Aunt Ginny patted her hand between her own. “Why were you in the garden alone?”
“I couldn’t risk returning to the ballroom. It was the shortest way to the entry vestibule.”
“Sebastian, we can’t let Claire marry under these circumstances. What would her mother and father say if they were here?” She stretched to touch her husband’s knee. “Margaret would never have let this stand. I can’t, in good conscience, allow this to go forward without knowing more.” Her voice softened. “You know what your brother Michael would have wanted.”
Her uncle scooped up Aunt Ginny’s hand and brought it to his lips. “Sweetheart, she has no other choice. Pembrooke made the announcement they would marry.”
Her aunt shook her head and exhaled a sigh.
“We won’t let you face tonight’s gossip alone. Not after everything you’ve gone through.” The warmth in her uncle’s voice encouraged Claire to lean against his protective embrace.
Aunt Ginny turned to Claire. “What are your thoughts?” Clearly, she sought another ally in her crusade against Lord Pembrooke.
“At this point, what does it matter? I have to marry.” Her words were sharper than she would have liked. “I’m sorry, Aunt Ginny. It’s just—” She took a deep breath. As long as there was a chance for happiness, she could face another day, even with the gossips.
Her sweet aunt’s intentions were heartfelt but would only make things worse. She had to marry if she wanted her own children. With marriage came respectability, which she needed desperately if she wanted to increase her role within her mother’s charity. Lord Pembrooke might be her last chance. She couldn’t afford to lose him. She let out a sigh of exasperation. Claire examined every event of the evening and tried to make sense of the chaos. Pembrooke had just finished mourning his sister. Now, he was here in London warning her of some dire gambling debt that would ruin her life. The effort made little difference since Lord Paul had already broken with her.
None of it made sense. Not unless it was the curse or some twisted game between Pembrooke and Lord Paul. Somehow, she’d find a way to discover the truth.
If it was painful going from betrothal to betrothal, she could only imagine her stature in society if she was forced to become a renowned spinster. At the ripe age of twenty-four, Claire was too old to be on the matrimonial market. Marriage to Lord Pembrooke had to take.
Claire hesitated, but her curiosity got the better of her. “I know Wrenwood borders the marquess’s ancestral seat. What else do you know about him?”
“He’s well regarded by his peers.” Uncle Sebastian thought for a moment. “He and I don’t agree on many things when the House of Lords is in session. Nevertheless, he is passionate about issues of agriculture and the rights of tenants. He’s quite wealthy.”
Aunt Ginny humphed. “A ringing endorsement for any man.”
“At least he’s committed to something.” Uncle Sebastian laughed, then grew serious as he faced Claire. “No one, including Lord Paul
or Pembrooke, will take advantage of you.”
Chapter Three
A housemaid stoked the fire into a welcoming blaze of heat. “Will there be anything else, my lady?”
“No, thank you.”
When the maid opened the door to leave, her cousin Emma bounded into Claire’s sitting room like one of her father’s retrievers, always willing to swim the deepest waters to capture the fallen prize. She collapsed on the sofa next to Claire. “You and Pembrooke in the garden alone? How did you accomplish such a feat in a single hour? I’ve been out for years and still can’t get LaTourell to sneak away for a kiss.”
“Em, it’s not what you think,” Claire said gently.
Her other cousins, McCalpin and William, arrived at a more leisurely pace and took the seats directly opposite.
“Kiss?” McCalpin’s jaw tensed. “Did Pembrooke touch you?”
William leaned toward McCalpin. “The marquess wants to test the bounds of propriety with our cousin? I say we take the blackguard—”
“No. Of course he didn’t,” Claire said. William and McCalpin always cared for her welfare, but sometimes their zealousness to protect both their sister and her spiraled outside the limits of acceptable behavior.
“Brute force is hardly the answer,” Emma continued. “Goodness, not long ago we were at the modiste’s for the final fitting of your first wedding dress. The ton called your wedding to the Earl of Archard the romance of the Season.” With a dramatic sigh she continued, “Last month, I was there for the fitting of Lord Paul’s gown.”
“Lord Paul’s gown?” She laughed as she threw a pillow at Emma’s head. “It’s my gown.”
With a coquettish smile, Emma cooed, “Another gown is in your future.”
Claire grabbed another pillow to toss, then hugged it to her chest as the levity of the moment evaporated into thin air. Most women practically caught kissing another man besides their intended would die from mortification. After the years of whispers and insinuations from “polite” society, she was immune to such shame. Instead, her overriding concern was doubt about his motives. There was no logical reason Pembrooke would offer for her unless it was a hoax.
The Bad Luck Bride Page 3