“Oh . . .” Miss Summers stammered.
Both gentlemen approached to make their bows.
“Miss Summers,” Lord Blackmar dutifully retorted.
Lord Brasleigh, on the other hand, offered one of his most charming smiles as he made her a bow. “A pleasure, Miss Summers.”
Clearly overwhelmed by the raven-haired lord breathtakingly attired in top boots and breeches with a blue coat that molded his exquisite form, the poor maiden stumbled backward. “Oh . . .”
“Careful.” Lord Brasleigh reached out as Miss Summers hit the tiny table that held a Chinese vase filled with daffodils. He was too late, and becoming tangled in the skirts of her gown, Miss Summers tumbled to the floor, taking the table and vase with her. There was a loud crash and Bella and Lady Stenhold rose to their feet.
“So clumsy of me,” Miss Summers whispered in acute embarrassment. “So clumsy.”
Quite unexpectedly, it was Lord Brasleigh who rushed to her aid, bending down beside her to tenderly help her to her feet. “Not at all,” he denied kindly.
Glancing at the overturned table and shattered vase, Miss Summers gave a small cry. “Oh, I have broken your pretty vase.”
“Think nothing of it, my dear,” Lady Stenhold insisted.
“Here, allow me.” Lord Brasleigh once again bent, righting the table and picking up the shards of the vase. “A most inconveniently placed table.”
Miss Summers lifted her hands to her painfully hot cheeks. “No, no. It is all my fault. So clumsy. Please, my lord, do not cut yourself.” “Nonsense.” Righting himself, he deposited the shards on the table. “There.”
“I am so d-dreadfully sorry,” Miss Summers stammered.
In thorough astonishment, Bella watched as Lord Brasleigh produced his handkerchief and lifted Miss Summers’s pudgy arm that was wet from the water in the vase.
“Let me dry you off.”
With great care, Lord Brasleigh wiped her arm dry, clearly unaware that the poor maiden was about to swoon at his solicitous attentions.
“Oh . . .”
Finished, Lord Brasleigh stepped back with a small smile. “I fear I can do nothing for your gown.”
With a flustered motion, Miss Summers waved her hands. “It will soon dry, thank you. I should be leaving.”
“I did not see a carriage when we returned. Are you walking?” Lord Brasleigh demanded.
“Yes, it is only a short distance.”
“I shall accompany you.”
More flustered than ever, Miss Summers gave a nervous laugh. “There is no need, my lord.”
“I will not take no for an answer.” In his arrogant fashion, Lord Brasleigh finJlly took her arm and began leading the bemused maiden toward the door. “Beautiful ladies should not be walking through the countryside on their own.”
There were no further protests as the maiden adoringly allowed herself to be whisked from the room. Just for a moment, Bella attempted to convince herself that Lord Brasleigh was simply acting true to form. As a hardened rogue, he simply could not resist seducing any lady who happened to be near. But she failed to convince herself.
There had been nothing flirtatious in his manner. Instead, he had revealed an innate kindness. and generosity of heart that had quite caught her off guard. Had she ever met another gentleman who would have reacted with such compassion?
“Well, I must say that was most elegantly done,” Lady Stenhold said, breaking the silence with obvious admiration.
“Yes. Philip has always possessed the oddest sympathy for those ladies most would consider an antidote,” Lord Blackmar concluded with a smile.
“A true cavalier,” Lady Stenhold stated.
Lord Blackmar shrugged. “Yes. It was really quite amazing to watch the most beautiful debutantes in London vying for his attention only to be passed over for some forgotten miss in the corner.”
Bella tried not to listen. She did not want to consider that Lord Brasleigh was not the black-hearted rake she had labeled him. Still, she could not deny that it was a struggle not to admire the gentleman Lord Blackmar was describing.
“I recall his father possessed a similar kindness toward those less fortunate,” Lady Stenhold murmured.
“Which is no doubt how he landed himself with Lady Brasleigh.”
Lady Stenhold grimaced. “Yes.”
“Thank God my own mother possessed the sense to cut my leading strings,” Lord Blackmar stated in firm tones. “Poor Philip is forced to cater to that harridan’s constant demands.”
“Richard,” Lady Stenhold protested.
“It is true. She might pretend to be on her deathbed, but she manages to play Philip for a fool. It is little wonder that he has avoided marriage like the plague. He has enough troubles with his mother and, of course, his unruly ward.” Unaware that Bella’s eyes had widened at the condemning referral to Lord Brasleigh’s ward, Lord Blackmar gave a faint bow. “Excuse me. I must change for dinner.”
He left the room, and Bella tightened her lips. Unruly? She would like to see how he would react if he were the one about to be hoisted up the aisle. And besides, Lord Brasleigh might be the perfect gentlemen toward his mother and unfortunate misses, but he had revealed a decided lack of sympathy toward his ward.
And as for his behavior toward her since coming to Surrey . . . Well, there was nothing cavalier about it at all.
No, she had no reason to feel a prick of guilt.
None whatsoever.
Five
Seated at the pianoforte in a distant corner, Bella absently plucked out a tune. It was not that she had any desire to display her dubious talent, but she was willing to do whatever necessary to place herself far away from the vicinity of Lord Brasleigh.
She had waited for days for the announcement that the two gentlemen were leaving Surrey. After all, they had no further reason to remain. But rather than rushing from the estate as she desperately hoped, they had continued to linger as if they hadn’t a desire in the world to return to London.
It was most aggravating, Bella seethed. For goodness’ sakes, she couldn’t continue to bolt about the neighborhood as she had for the past week. For one thing, she was weary to the bone from her efforts, and for another, the tenants were beginning to regard her with suspicion as she arrived every day with baskets of food and woolen blankets. No doubt they wondered if she were an overzealous philanthropist or just a bit daft.
Then again, she couldn’t simply remain at the estate and leave herself vulnerable to the lecherous advances of Lord Brasleigh.
Oh yes, it was all most aggravating.
As if able to read her very thoughts, the raven-haired gentleman suddenly rose to his feet and determinedly made his way in her direction. That familiar tingle inched down her spine as she instinctively stiffened. Even the knowledge that he possessed a softer side did nothing to lessen his potent danger.
Seemingly unaware of her tension, Lord Brasleigh boldly planted himself next to her seated form, the heat of his thighs searing through her blue gauze gown. “That was lovely,” he murmured.
Her hands abruptly clenched in her lap. “Thank you.“ .
“Beethoven?”
“Yes.”
Not put off by her overt lack of enthusiasm he bent closer. “Shall I turn the pages for you?” His breath brushed the handful of curls she had left free to frame her face.
“I have finished for the evening.” She made a move to rise, only to have his fingers settle on her shoulder and gently keep her in place.
“There is no need to run off. I do not bite.”
She froze, wishing that she possessed the nerve to push aside his hand. “You’ll forgive me if I do not believe you.”
He gave a low chuckle. “Well, perhaps a nibble or two. I particularly prefer the nape of the neck as I hold a woman close in my arms. What do you prefer?”
An evocative image of being held in his arms attempted to rise to mind, but was firmly squashed. “My lord,” she muttered in reprimand.
“Very well, Mrs. Smith,” he relented with a persuasive smile. “What if I promise to be on my best behavior? Could we not have a simple conversation?”
She refused to be charmed. “I cannot imagine that we have anything to say to each other.”
“I know very little about you. Have you always lived in Surrey?”
Her wariness deepened. She had been deliberately vague about her life before arriving at Mayfield. After all, the less anyone knew of her, the fewer lies she had to recall. And until now, he had not seemed particularly interested. She could only hope his curiosity was fleeting. His flirtations were bad enough. She did not need him prying into her past.
“No.”
“You are not very forthcoming.”
“I have no desire to discuss the past.”
“Well, I at least know that you have not been to London,” he relentlessly pursued. “I should never have forgotten such a lovely face.”
Her unease was briefly forgotten as she felt a surge of distaste at his outrageous words. Really, did he think her a complete buffoon? Even trapped in the depths of the country, she had known that the elusive Lord Brasleigh held no interest in debutantes. Only the most exclusive and sought after Cyprians could stir his attention.
“I should be very surprised if you would have even noticed me,” she mocked.
“You are very modest.”
“No.” She recklessly lifted her head to meet his brilliant silver gaze. “I am simply aware of your reputation, my lord. It is well known that your prefer the lures of actresses to respectable debutantes.”
Just for a moment he appeared disconcerted by her words. Clearly he had not expected her to be familiar with the gossip surrounding him. There might even have been a hint of color along the lines of his prominent cheekbones. But predictably, he remained in command of the confrontation.
“I will admit that I prefer ladies who enjoy the pleasures of love without the tedious complications of debutantes.”
She would just bet that he did, she acknowledged with a flare of distaste. He might treat Miss Summers with all the consideration of a young lady, but women without the protection of a family were a mere amusement to be enjoyed and then tossed aside.
“Ladies who are dependent upon you for their livelihood and in no position to make demands, you mean?” she demanded in distaste. “Hardly love.”
The silver eyes glittered at her sharp accusation. “That is a decidedly low blow, my dear. I assure you that my mistresses have never complained. Indeed, they have all seemed most satisfied.”
She refused to blush, although she did not doubt he had fully intended to embarrass her in punishment for her slight upon his charms. “They must be easily satisfied.”
He chucked at the thrust, his fingers stroking the soft skin of her shoulders. “What would it take to satisfy you, Mrs. Smith?”
She stiffened as a shocking heat flared through her body. It was anger, nothing else, she hastily reassured herself. That and outrage that he would behave so boldly in front of Lady Stenhold who was being firmly distracted by Lord Blackmar.
“Nothing that you could offer.”
‘’You have not yet heard what I have to offer.”
“I am not interested,” she muttered.
“Surely a lovely young woman such as yourself cannot be content to play companion to an old woman?” he demanded. “I could give you a home of your own, pretty baubles to wear and of course, the pleasure of my company.”
She glared into his handsome countenance. “Pleasure?”
“Of course.”
“A pleasure for whom?”
His gaze dropped to her unsteady lips. “For the both of us, I promise.”
“I thought I had made it clear that I have no interest in such an arrangement.”
He merely gave a click of his tongue. “Such a tease.”
Her breath hissed between her clenched teeth. “Good heavens, are you always so persistent?”
“That all depends upon how badly I want something.” He shrugged one broad shoulder. “And, of course, we both know that this pretense is no more than a ploy to capture my interest.”
A ploy? For goodness’ sakes, the man possessed enough arrogance to fill all of England. “I would suggest that you change the topic of conversation, my lord, unless you wish to have your face slapped,” she threatened darkly.
The fingers roamed the curve of her neck. “Ah . . . I do like a woman of spirit, Mrs. Smith.”
She jerked from his touch. “And I like a gentleman who knows how to behave as a gentleman.”
“I can behave any way you like.” He bent even closer. “Shall I come to your room tonight and prove it?”
She gasped in disbelief. “Certainly not.”
“Then come to my room.”
“No.”
He straightened slowly, a hint of steely determination etched on his dark features. “Very well. We shall continue our game another day or two, but I promise, Mrs. Smith, by the end of the week you will be mine.”
With a faint bow, Lord Brasleigh turned to stroll back toward Lady Stenhold, leaving Bella more shaken than angry. He seemed so . . . relentless. So confident. How was she to convince him to leave her alone? She had to discover some means.
It was that or fleeing once again.
* * *
There was a definite hint of spring in the air as Bella and Lady Stenhold stepped from the small church. Bella sucked in a deep breath of the flower-scented air. It was a welcome relief to be standing in the fresh air after two tedious hours of enduring the droning chastisements from the vicar on the sins of mankind.
Beside her, Lady Stenhold glanced toward the portly vicar who was hovering beside the church with smug self-importance. “I do wish the vicar would devote as much passion to tending to his flock as to condemning them.”
Bella could only shudder at the thought. The vicar would no doubt bully and terrify his flock if he took it into his thick head to take an interest in their personal lives. “He is a rather stern man,” she carefully retorted.
“He is a wretched bully.” Lady Stenhold was not nearly so discrete. “I pity his daughter.”
“Yes.” Bella turned to glance at Miss Summers, her heart giving a queer leap at the sight of Lord Brasleigh standing at her side.
As always, he was impeccably attired, his fitted coat so snug she could easily discern the muscles of his broad chest. It was a sight that appeared to delight Miss Summers, and she giggled with pleasure at something he was saying.
For no reason at all the sight decidedly annoyed Bella.
Lady Stenhold, on the other hand, appeared inordinately pleased. “I must say that she has quite bloomed beneath Lord Brasleigh’s attentions. I have never seen her appear so lovely.”
Bella’s features unconsciously hardened. “He is a most practiced rogue.”
“So I have noted,” Lady Stenhold agreed in dry tones, her shrewd gaze abruptly turning back to Bella. “Is he . . . troubling you, Anna?”
Bella was caught off guard by the abrupt question. Oh, how she would love to confess that the insufferable man was not only troubling her, but that he had insulted her in the most shameful manner. She had no doubt that Lady Stenhold would be deeply shocked and soon would have him tossed from her estate. But always in the back of her mind was the fear that such an action might enrage the man to the point of retaliation. She could not have him seeking more information on the mysterious Mrs. Smith to enact his revenge.
So instead she swallowed her hasty words and forced herself to give a small shrug. “He is simply the type of gentleman who feels the need to flirt with every lady he encounters.”
“Perhaps,” Lady Stenhold murmured in skeptical tones. “You do know that I would request Richard to return to London with Lord Brasleigh if need be.”
Bella smiled with genuine gratitude. “Thank you, but I am certain they will soon be leaving. Besides, it must be pleasant for you to have the company of your nep
hew.”
Lady Stenhold considered her words for a moment before an odd expression flitted over her lined countenance. “Richard has been decidedly elusive. It is almost as if he is avoiding a comfortable chat with me. Very odd.”
Bella had been so enwrapped in her own troubles that she had not taken much notice of Lord Blackmar. Now she regarded Lady Stenhold with a frown. “Is something wrong, do you think?”
Lady Stenhold tapped a gloved finger to her chin. “I am uncertain. I shall no doubt discover the truth in time.”
Unsure what was stewing in the older woman’s mind, Bella was distracted as Miss Summers suddenly appeared beside them. “Good morning, Lady Stenhold. Mrs. Smith.”
“Good morning, Miss Summers,” Lady Stenhold greeted warmly. “Do you not look lovely?”
The maiden blushed, glancing down at her gown of a surprising shade of pale green. It was the first occasion that Bella had ever seen her in anything but her drab gray. “Thank you.”
“I do not think that I have ever seen you wear such a pretty gown.”
An expression of happiness illuminated her round face, lending an air that was most becoming. “Is it not lovely?” she breathed. “Lord Brasleigh happened to mention to Father that the bishop particularly preferred women to wear gaily colored gowns. He says that God would not have given nature such beautiful colors if he wished to view only black and gray.”
It was no doubt a devious lie, but not even Bella could condemn Lord Brasleigh’s deception. He had performed no less than a miracle in swaying the vicar from swathing his daughter in ugly gray. More importantly, he had also brought an unfamiliar sparkle to her eyes.
Lady Stenhold was dearly of the same opinion as a small smile curved her mouth. “A very wise man.”
“Yes,” Miss Summers swiftly agreed.
Lady Stenhold regarded her in a coy fashion. “You seem to be enjoying the company of Lord Brasleigh.”
“He is so very kind.” Miss Summers clasped her hands in a reverent motion. “He never makes me feel stupid or clumsy.”
“Of course not. You are a very accomplished young lady.”
Here Comes the Bride Page 37