Philip’s expression was mocking. “I certainly hope not.”
Barth slowly opened his eyes and banged a fist on the arm of his chair. “But the beastly thing is that I cannot get her out of my mind. I came to London to enjoy my freedom. After all, I have spent a lifetime being smothered by the knowledge that I would have to wed Isa Lawford to save the Wickton family from disgrace. I should be relieved at the thought that she has refused to become my wife.”
Philip thought of his own chastisements to be happy that Bella Lowe was soon to become Mrs. LeMont. What better means of putting her out of his thoughts than to give her to another? Unfortunately, it had served no better purpose than to make him more miserable than ever.
“But you are not relieved?”
“I have never been so bloody miserable in all my life,” he confessed. “Isa may no longer be my fiancée, but she refuses to leave me in peace.”
It was a complaint all too familiar to Philip. “Do not tell me. She is there every time you close your eyes. You smell her scent in the air, and when you awake in the morning, your arms ache because she is not lying beside you.”
“How did you know?” Barth breathed.
Philip struggled to regain his composure. He was supposed to be helping his friend, not bemoaning his own troubles. “What will you do?”
Barth’s expression hardened. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“I have been informed that a true gentleman should bow out with as much grace as possible.”
Philip regarded his friend with stern disapproval. Bow out, indeed. “I have never known you to give up, Wickton. Remember when we were surrounded by those damned Frenchies and our commander wanted to retreat? You pulled out your sword and demanded that we fight our way through.”
“I would rather face a regiment of Frenchies than a devious woman. At least I knew what was expected of me.”
Philip could not help but agree. “Hear. Hear.”
“You were wise not to become entangled in the dangerous lures of a female.”
“Oh, yes, I am all that is wise,” Philip retorted in mocking tones. “What will you do?”
It took Barth a moment to answer. “I do not know.”
“What do you want?” Philip demanded. He waited for his friend to respond, but Barth appeared lost in his dark thoughts. “Barth?”
Barth gave a sharp shake of his head. “What do I want? I want to see Isa smile.”
Philip caught his breath. Such simple words, and yet they made his heart twist with an aching sense of loss. He had been fighting Bella for so long, it seemed.
What would he give to see her smile at him?
“Bloody hell.” Barth swayed to his feet.
Philip swiftly rose as well. “Where are you going?”
Barth gave a short laugh. “To do the one good thing I may ever do in my miserable, self-indulgent life.”
Reaching out to halt his friend, Philip suddenly dropped his hand and allowed Barth to make his way unsteadily out of the room. Although he had always been the one to rush to the rescue of his friends, it was clear that both Simon and Barth would have to solve their problems on their own on this occasion. When it came to matters of the heart, he was the last person to offer advice.
Once again on his own, Philip returned to his seat and poured himself another glass of brandy. In many ways he envied his friends. At least they appeared determined to do something about their feelings.
He wanted to do the same. He wanted to rush to his mother’s town house, where he had installed Bella, and command her not to wed Andre. He wanted to tell her . . .
“My lord, excuse me.”
Annoyed at once again being interrupted, Philip lifted his head to discover his footman standing beside him with an apologetic expression.
“Yes?”
“You asked me to inform you if anything unusual occurred with Miss Lowe.”
Philip’s heart slammed to a halt. It had been more impulse than logic that had urged him to keep a careful watch on his ward. “What is it?”
“She has left Lady Claypole’s assembly.”
“Alone?”
The young man reddened in embarrassment. “She traveled down the street and then halted at a corner and a gentleman entered the carriage.”
Blast the unruly brat. “Who?”
“Monsieur LeMont.”
“You are certain?” he demanded, even as he realized that it could be no one else. What other gentleman did she know in London?
“Yes, my lord.”
“Where did they go?”
“They are at a small posting inn outside of London.”
“The devil they are.”
In a heartbeat Philip was on his feet. Clearly, the two had realized that he was opposed to their marriage and that in the end he would discover some means of preventing their being together. So they rashly presumed that they could sneak away and perform the deed. Well, not as long as he had a breath in his body. Bella was not marrying Andre. At least not until he told her how he felt.
“Come.”
* * *
The posting inn left much to be desired. Loud, shabby, and reeking of stale food and unwashed bodies, it appeared to cater to those who had nothing more on their minds than to consume as much ale as was possible. Thankfully, Bella had possessed money enough to reserve a private sitting room as well as enough to bribe the innkeeper into ensuring that she was left in peace.
Not that Bella intended to linger for long. Once that she was certain that Andre and Claudette were well on their way to Scotland, she would command the carriage she had hired to take her to Lady Stenhold’s friend. She had already sent her own carriage back to Lady Brasleigh’s in the hope that they would believe she had left with Andre. She would arrive at her destination empty-handed, but Lady Stenhold had assured her that all would be well.
At least she would be away from Lord Brasleigh, she acknowledged with a flare of pain.
The past week had been nearly unbearable. He had seemed to be constantly underfoot, remaining throughout the day and even for dinner. At every turn, she could see his handsome countenance and smell the lingering scent of his cologne. Even worse, he had all but realized that a marriage between herself and Andre was absurd. She had had to work swiftly to ensure her plan worked.
And—unbelievably—it had.
Within the hour, she would be in her new home, and she could begin to make her own plans for the future. There would be no companions, no guardians, no one at all to interfere.
She was free.
Determinedly attempting to convince herself that she would be happy without Lord Brasleigh, she was distracted by the sound of raised voices in the hall. Then, without warning, the door to the sitting room was thrust open. Her heart froze as the achingly familiar form of Lord Brasleigh entered the room.
“Bella,” he growled, his face flushed with anger.
Her eyes widened with shock. How had he found her? she wondered wildly. She had taken such care.
Not that it mattered now, she told herself, attempting to gather her rattled thoughts. For the moment, she had to think of Andre. Her escape might be postponed, but she could at least ensure that the two lovers were allowed to wed. That meant distracting this intimidating gentleman until they were too far for capture.
“My lord.”
His silver eyes flashed. “Where is he?”
“He?” She attempted to appear innocent.
Lord Brasleigh was not deceived for a moment. “Do not play me the fool. Where is LeMont?”
“I haven’t the slightest notion.”
He moved forward to tower over her seated form. “My groom watched LeMont enter your carriage, so there is little point in lying.”
So that was how he knew where she was, Bella seethed. The rat. “You were having me followed?”
“Of course.”
“How dare you?”
“Obviously, you are not to be trusted,” he retorted without re
morse.
His arrogance was beyond belief.
“You are the one not be trusted, my lord,” she informed him in angry tones. “I am a young lady, not a common criminal to be spied upon and followed in such a fashion.”
“Since you have yet to act the role of a young lady, I have little recourse but to treat you as a willful chit.”
“You, sir, are an insufferable boor,” she informed him, furious with the aching pain in the center of her heart. “Please go away.”
“I have every intention of going and taking you with me,” he threatened. “But first I intend to beat some sense into that young cur.”
Bella’s protective instincts rose to the fore. It was a lucky that thing Andre was not there; he probably would have fainted at the sight of the furious lord. Bella, however, was made of sterner stuff. “You are to leave Andre alone. If you wish to vent your ill humor onto someone, you can do so to me.”
His expression hardened. “You would protect a gentleman who brings you to this godforsaken inn and exposes you to the worse sort of scandal?”
“I came with Andre freely. Indeed, it was my idea.”
An odd flicker of distress darkened his silver eyes as his hands clenched into fists. “Do you have no shame?”
“I do not understand why you are so angry,” she retorted. “You are the one who wished me to be with Andre.”
“Not in this manner.”
He was impossible, she decided, thoroughly and utterly impossible. “What a hypocrite you are,” she charged.
“No, I am merely beginning to suspect that I made a poor choice in LeMont.”
“He is a fine gentleman.”
“He is not for you,” Lord Brasleigh rasped.
Bella arched her brows. “No?”
“No.” There was a throbbing silence. “I am.”
Bella nearly tumbled off the sofa in shock. Was he implying that he . . . No, it was impossible. She had to have misunderstood. “What did you say?”
“Dash it all,” he muttered, tossing aside his hat and gloves. “I love you.”
Numb with disbelief, she gave a slow shake of her head. This was not at all the arrogant, domineering bully she knew. He suddenly appeared as awkward and uncertain as a schoolboy. There had to be something wrong. “You do not know what you are saying.”
“Oh, no?” With jerky movements he lowered himself beside her and grasped her cold fingers in a tight grip. “I know precisely what I am saying. At last.”
“But . . . You treat me as a child.”
His expression became rueful. “It was the only means of not sweeping you off your feet and into my bed.”
Bella felt as if she had plunged into some crazy dream. For too long she had refused to allow herself to hope that things could be different between her and Lord Brasleigh. After all, such thoughts would only lead to further pain. Now she found herself unable to accept that he could actually be saying the words she had longed to hear.
“My lord . . .”
“Philip,” he interrupted softly. “My name is Philip.”
“You are simply attempting to trick me into going home with you.”
His silver eyes darkened to smoke. “Not this time, Bella. No lies, no deceit. I love you. I think that I have loved you from the moment I arrived at Mayfield.”
Bella gave a rather hysterical laugh. “That is remarkably difficult to believe.”
He possessed the grace to blush. “I will admit that I was angry when you disappeared and I was determined to teach you a lesson. In my arrogance, I presumed it would be a simple matter to frighten you into marriage and then return to my life in London.”
“I am well aware of your despicable plot,” she reminded him.
His hand reached up to push back a renegade curl. “You had plots of your own, ifyou will recall, my dear.”
This time it was Bella’s turn to blush. “Only out of desperation. You deserved much worse.”
“Perhaps.” That distracting finger moved across her cheek, then softly outlined her trembling lips. “I was a reprehensible guardian, but I intend to be the very best of husbands.”
Husband. Bella gave an audible gasp. “You wish to marry me?”
His expression became uncommonly somber. “Only if it is what you wish. I have learned my lesson, Bella. From now on, I will consider only your happiness. If you wish to return to your home, I will ensure that it is properly repaired and you are given a full staff.”
A slow, nearly overwhelming surge of happiness began to flood through her body. “Do you mean that?”
“Yes,” he said simply.
Abruptly, her lingering fears fled, and a luminous glow of happiness shimmered in her dark eyes. “What if I do not wish to leave?”
He gave a low groan of relief and tugged her against his hard frame. “Then I will make you my wife and never let you go.”
Bella had never dared dream that she could feel such happiness. All thoughts of flight were banished from her mind. She was precisely where she wished to be. “Oh, Philip, I do love you.”
“And you will marry me?” he demanded.
“Yes.”
With obvious reluctance, he slowly pulled back. “What of LeMont?”
She flashed him a triumphant smile. “Andre left before you arrived. He is eloping with the woman he loves.”
Lord Brasleigh was clearly stunned. “Then why are you here?”
“I wanted you to believe that I had left with Andre so that you would not search for me in London.”
“Brat,” he growled at her cunning, even as he was slowly lowering his head. “I see I shall never be allowed to let you out of my sight.”
“Is that a promise?” she teased, her lips already parting in anticipation.
His mouth tenderly brushed her own. “One I intend to keep for an eternity.”
Epilogue
The first day of June, Philip entered the London gambling establishment with his required thousand pounds and a single red rose. He ignored the curious glances and even waves of greeting as he strode toward the back corner. He had not wanted to leave Bella. Gads, he never wanted to leave Bella, he acknowledged with a wry grin. If he had thought marriage might ease the burning desire to be at her side, to hold her in his arms, he had been gloriously mistaken.
If anything, the past weeks had only deepened his fascination with the bewitching creature. But the promise to his friends had led him to the strictly male club.
Now, he hurried to conduct his business so he could return to his wife. Approaching the three chairs pulled toward a bay window, a wide smile split his face as Barth rose to his feet. A decidedly more composed Barth than the one he had encountered on his previous trip to London.
“By gads, Philip, it is good to see you.”
Philip clasped his hand onto his friend’s shoulder. “Hello, Barth.”
A pair of mischievous hazel eyes twinkled with delight as he pointedly glanced at the packet and rose in Philip’s hand. “It appears that I am not the only one to have fallen victim to the gypsy’s blessing. I must say that I would have wagered you would be the winner. What occurred.”
Philip smiled. “In truth, I haven’t the slightest notion. One day I was a perfectly reasonable gentleman, and the next I was as looby as any poor soul in Bedlam. And even worse, I have never been happier in my life.”
“Who would have suspected a month ago that we would actually be pleased to lose our wager?”
Philip chuckled, thinking of his blind arrogance. “Not I.”
Barth tugged his ear in a familiar manner. “So who is the lucky maiden?”
“My ward, as a matter of fact. And yourself?”
“Miss Lawford.”
Philip blinked in surprise. “I thought she loved another?”
“Quite inexplicably, she has decided that she loves me instead.”
“And you intend to wed?”
A glow settled on the boyishly handsome countenance. “As soon as she’ll have me.�
��
Philip gave his friend another pat, well aware that they were both grinning like daft fools.
“A pity we did not think to order a bottle. We could have raised a toast.”
“It is fortunate that I am always prepared for any emergency,” a familiar voice suddenly announced.
Philip whirled about to discover Simon, along with a servant who discretely handed Barth and Philip a glass of brandy before fading back into the crowd.
Philip noted the glass already in Simon’s slender hand. “Have you come to claim the wager?”
The familiar twinkle was present in Simon’s eyes as he pulled his other hand from behind his back to reveal a packet and red rose. “I have come to offer my forfeit,” he confessed. “And to offer a toast.”
Barth gave a sudden laugh, raising his glass. “To a gypsy’s blessing.”
Simon lifted his glass. “To true love.”
“To three extraordinary ladies,” Philip offered. They readily took a deep drink, then glanced toward the table. “What shall we do with the money?”
“There is an orphanage being opened in Wiltshire,” Simon retorted. “We could donate the money in the name of the Casanova Club.”
Barth instantly agreed. “Hear. Hear.”
Philip slowly nodded his head. “A fitting end to the Casanova Club.”
Here Comes the Bride Page 48