The Wayward Bride

by Anna Bradley

  “I nearly did.” Sydney swallowed. If it hadn’t been for Lucas, he would have. “I was indeed very lucky.”

  Isla was staring at the wound, looking as if she was about to burst into tears. “The pain must have been awful, and your handsome face… Oh, Sydney. I’m afraid it will leave a scar.”

  Sydney gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s all right, Isla. Every gentleman secretly wishes for an impressive scar, and this is a grand one. I’m quite proud of it.”

  Isla didn’t reply, but she clung to his arm as the rest of them all gathered around him. The ladies exclaimed over his injuries, and the gentlemen demanded to hear about the accident, until at last Lord Huntington held up a hand for silence.

  “Lady Huntington has a luncheon feast waiting, in celebration of your return, Sydney. Unless you’d rather rest first?”

  “Rest? No, indeed. I’ve had only weak tea and dry toast for the past week. I’m famished.”

  Luncheon was a lively affair, and they all lingered over their tea afterward, but at last Isla’s family began to drift off one by one, and she and Sydney were left alone in the drawing room. At first, neither of them seemed to know what to say, but then Isla gestured to his face. “Does it hurt very much?”

  “A bit. Not nearly as much as it did only days ago. It’s healing well.”

  “Do all gentlemen secretly wish for scars, or did you make that up to make me feel better?”

  Sydney chuckled. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s just the sort of foolish thing gentlemen would wish for.”

  She smiled with some of her old bravado, and for the first time since he arrived, Sydney saw a trace of the Isla he recognized. “Well, I can’t speak for other gentlemen, but I’ve always wished for one. Not necessarily on my face, mind you, but I don’t mind it. Truly.”

  “I suppose it could have been much worse, couldn’t it? I was…oh, Sydney, I was so dreadfully worried. Thank goodness you’re all right.”

  Isla kept her gaze on her lap, but Sydney heard the tears in her voice, and he did what he’d been longing to do since he saw her standing on the steps. He opened his arms. “Oh, Issy. Come here.”

  A sob broke from her lips. She went to him and hid her face against his chest. Tears welled in Sydney’s own eyes as he closed his arms around her.

  He didn’t like to see Isla so upset, but it was more than that, too.

  In the space of a single week, everything had changed. A carriage wreck, an enormous black dog, a pair of gray eyes—how incredible such a random series of things could alter the course of a life, but they had, and he was grateful for it. Grateful the kind of love that meant more to him than anything else had found him at last.

  It would find Isla, too. He was certain of it. He wanted that for her with a fierceness that burned a hole in his heart, but she wouldn’t find it with him. As much as they loved each other, it wasn’t the right kind of love to build a life upon. They’d been fooling themselves, believing a friendship would be enough for either of them.

  He stroked her hair and murmured softly to her until her tears subsided, and she eased away from him, wiping her cheeks. She took a few shaky breaths, then offered him a watery smile. “Well, as Finn said, you’ve arrived safely, and in mostly one piece. Your injuries aside, Sydney, you look very well. It’s remarkable, given all you’ve been through.”

  Sydney hesitated. He hadn’t said a word about Lucas at lunch, but he intended to tell Isla everything, and she’d just given him the perfect opportunity. “I am well. I, ah, I’ve been on a farm for the past week. Did I mention that?”

  “No, but Hyacinth told me about it. Farm life seems to agree with you. What sort of farm was it?”

  “It’s a small family farm, just a mile or so outside Beaconsfield, a tiny village about twenty miles from Aylesbury. Mostly rye, wheat, and barley crops—the usual sort of thing.”

  “Ah, I see. Is there a family living there?”

  “Yes, of a sort.” Sydney thought of Lucas and Brute, and a smile rose unbidden to his lips. “There’s an enormous black dog named Brute, with a great quantity of thick, shaggy hair. The first time I encountered him, I thought he was a bear. Frightened the life out of me.”

  Isla laughed. “Is he a gentle dog?”

  “Oh, yes. Sweet as can be, and devoted to his master.”

  Perhaps he’d placed an emphasis on the word master, or perhaps his expression had given him away, or perhaps Isla just knew him that well, but her gaze caught and held his. “Indeed? He sounds lovely. Hyacinth mentioned a farmer named Mr. Dean. Tell me more about him, won’t you?”

  “He, um…well, his full name is Lucas Dean.”

  Isla waited, but sudden nerves made Sydney’s words freeze in his throat. He thought he knew Isla’s heart, but what if he’d made a mistake? What if her feelings went deeper than he’d realized, and he was about to break her heart? What if she never forgave him—

  “Sydney? Tell me more about Lucas Dean. Is he a young man?”

  She took his hand, her voice soft and encouraging, and Sydney’s throat loosened. “A few years younger than me, but he has the manner of someone older. He’s rather dour, you see. He’s not much of a talker, and he’s a bit bad-tempered at times, too.” Sydney chuckled. “He doesn’t have much use for people, but he dotes on that dog of his.”

  “Shame on you, Sydney,” Isla said, a smile in her voice. “Why, you make him sound perfectly awful, which is rather bad of you, given he saved your life.”

  Sydney had dropped his gaze to their joined hands, but now he looked up to find her watching him, a curious expression on her face. “No, no, he’s not awful. Far from it. He’s just rather shy and reserved by nature. He’s really very kind, though he pretends not to be. He set my shoulder, you know, and fashioned me a sling to keep it still. He’s clever.”

  “Hmmm.”

  Isla nodded thoughtfully, but she didn’t speak, and after a moment Sydney went on. “You can’t imagine what a wonderful nurse he was. If it hadn’t been for Lucas, I’d almost certainly have lost my eye. My eye, and quite possibly my life. He carried me from the carriage wreck to his farm, though it was more than a mile. He grumbles a bit, but no one could be kinder than Lucas, or more caring. He’s truly an amazing man. I didn’t like to leave him at the farm. He’s alone there, and though he tries to deny it, he’s lonely.”

  Isla remained quiet, and Sydney fell silent, as well. When he spoke again, he’d nearly forgotten she was there. “He has dark red hair, and the most remarkable gray eyes I’ve ever seen. I hardly remember anything from the day of the accident, but I remember his eyes. My last thought before I lost consciousness that first night was that I’d never seen eyes like his before.”

  “Oh, Sydney.”

  Startled, Sydney raised his gaze to hers. She was watching him, her blue eyes shining. Heat suffused his face. “I, ah…have I given myself away?”

  She squeezed his hand. “You have, and in the loveliest way imaginable.”

  Sydney shook his head, stunned to find it had all poured out of him with such ease. “I didn’t mean to tell you this way. I wanted to explain—”

  “Oh, my dear friend. You have explained, and I couldn’t be happier for you.” Tears glittered on Isla’s lashes, but she was smiling. “I release you from our betrothal, and I do it with joy. My only condition is you must promise to introduce me to Lucas someday. I want to know the man who earned your beautiful heart.”

  “You’re so dear, Issy.” Sydney raised her hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “Of course, you’ll meet Lucas, but what of you? The scandal, and now a broken betrothal? What will become of you? I won’t abandon you to such a dismal fate.”

  “Oh, Sydney, you needn’t worry about me.”

  “I am worried about you. You can’t imagine I’ll pursue my own happiness at the expense
of yours—”

  “You won’t have to,” she interrupted quickly. “You see—I meant to tell you this sooner, Sydney—during the storm, while you were with Lucas, I was stranded at Hazelwood with Lord Pierce. We’ve been fond of each other for a while now, and we’ve…come to an understanding.”

  Sydney’s eyebrows rose. “Pierce? Good God, it’s been Pierce, this whole time? Though now I think on it, I should have guessed it ages ago. The night of Lady Entwhistle’s ball, after the scandal, I told him we were betrothed to stem the tide of gossip, and he looked as if I’d dealt him a blow.” He gave her an anxious look. “You’ve explained all that to him?”

  She bit her lip. “I have. He understands everything now.”

  Sydney thought he saw a shadow pass over her face. It was there and then gone, but it left him uneasy. “You’ve told him you love him, and he’s told you he loves you in return? It’s all sorted out between you?”

  Isla cleared her throat. “Yes, indeed. It’s all sorted out. I was going to ask you to release me from our betrothal, but you see, I didn’t have to.”

  “You’ll be all right then, Issy? Are you certain?”

  “Yes, of course.” She gripped his hand in hers. “Oh, Sydney, I was wrong about love all along. It’s the only thing that matters.”

  Sydney blew out a long breath, relieved beyond measure at her words. “You told me once you didn’t believe in love, and it broke my heart, Issy. Pierce is a stern, proper sort of gentleman, and I don’t know that I would have put the two of you together, but then I never imagined I’d fall in love with a taciturn farmer who keeps a bear for a pet. Love is strange, isn’t it?”

  Isla laughed. “Strange, and wonderful. Now, if you’re not too fatigued, Sydney, you must return to Lucas at once.”

  “I will, once I’ve spoken to Lord Huntington and your brothers. Good Lord, they must be confused, with you trading one betrothed for another. You’ve told them you’re betrothed to Lord Pierce, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, of course. As I said, it’s all sorted out, and my family couldn’t be happier.” She swallowed. “Please, Sydney. You must go at once, this very minute. I can’t bear to think of Lucas alone on his farm, thinking he’s lost you.”

  Sydney couldn’t bear it, either. “Are you quite sure?”

  “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. Go to him, Sydney. It’s the worst thing in the world to… That is, I think it must be the worst thing in the world to think you’ve lost the person you love.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Winter, having unleashed its final fury on their heads, subsided with a whimper. A few melting patches of ice lingered here and there on the shady areas of the grounds, but the temperature had turned so mild, Hugh had proposed he and Lady Juliana take a ride this afternoon.

  If he’d made the suggestion hoping he might catch a glimpse of Isla out riding Sophie, he assured himself the hope was only fleeting. He hadn’t seen her since he’d left her at Huntington Lodge several days ago. She hadn’t ridden past his house, despite the improved weather.

  He didn’t make it a habit to wait by the window for her to pass, of course. He’d just happened to be there yesterday, attending to other business just at the time she used to ride by, but that was a harmless coincidence—

  “Look, my lord! I think the spring flowers are emerging at last.” Lady Juliana pointed her riding crop at a patch of ground at the edge of the woods, where a few green shoots had struggled to the surface. “Daffodils, perhaps, or crocuses. You’d never believe the ground was covered with ice only a few days ago, would you?”

  “No.” Then, feeling as if his betrothed deserved more than this terse reply, he added, “It’s a wonder they’ll bloom at all this year, after such a storm.”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  Hugh had been staring down at the shoots without seeing them, but he looked up at the forlorn note in Lady Juliana’s voice.

  She was wearing a dark green riding habit that brought out the unusual color of her eyes and a smart, black beaver hat adorned with a green ostrich feather. Her cheeks were pink from the exercise, and the hint of golden curls peeking out from under her hat glinted in the sun. She looked lovely, and the past few days they’d spent together had confirmed again what he already knew to be true.

  Lady Juliana Bernard was as beautiful inside as out.

  Grace adored her, and no wonder. It made Hugh’s heart swell to watch them together, to see the tender affection between them. Lady Juliana was fiercely protective of Grace, but unlike so many adults, she hadn’t forgotten freedom was one of the greatest joys of childhood. If Grace ever decided to slide down the bannister, Hugh suspected Lady Juliana wouldn’t bat an eye at it.

  “Perhaps we can ride out with Grace after tea and show her some of the new flowers. Would you like that, my lord?”

  Lady Juliana gave him a hopeful smile, and guilt pierced Hugh’s chest. Theirs might not be a love match, but she deserved far better than a grim-faced husband who yearned for dark hair instead of fair and blue eyes instead of green.

  He’d have to do better. He would do better.

  He forced a smile. “Yes, very much.”

  “The fresh air and exercise will be good for Grace. She’s quite interested in the outdoors, you know. She’ll prattle on for hours about plants and flowers, and insects and birds. She knows more about such things than you’d imagine a child of her age would.”

  Whether she’d intended to or not, Lady Juliana had hit upon just the right thing to say. Hugh brightened at once at the mention of Grace. “I don’t doubt it. I’m amazed at how much she knows. She’s a remarkably clever child, just as Emma was.”

  Lady Juliana beamed. They’d had more than one awkward conversation since she’d arrived at Hazelwood, but if there was one thing they could converse easily on, it was Grace’s many perfections. “Very clever, yes, and of an inquisitive turn of mind. I was surprised we couldn’t coax her outdoors today, but I believe I underestimated the allure of Emma’s dollhouse.”

  Hugh chuckled. He’d had the dollhouse moved into the drawing room, and they’d left Grace and Lord Graystone sprawled in front of it, taking the dolls to tea. “I’m not sure who was enjoying themselves more—Grace, or your father.”

  “He indulges her shamelessly, I’m afraid. But how good of you to remember the dollhouse and bring it downstairs for Grace. What made you think of it?”

  “I, ah…I didn’t. It was Miss Ramsey’s idea.” Hugh’s smile faded as he recalled what had happened between them the night he’d found Isla in the schoolroom. He’d been wild that night—driven to the edge of sanity with love and desire and frustration.

  If he’d hadn’t lost control, if he hadn’t kissed her, neither he nor Isla would ever have discovered the truth about what had happened between them. Were they better off, knowing it? Had the truth set either of them free, as it was meant to do?

  He didn’t feel free. If anything, he felt more imprisoned than ever.

  “Well, it was good of her to think of Grace.” Lady Juliana paused; then, as if it were an afterthought, she asked, “Do you know Miss Ramsey well?”

  Hugh had been lost in memories of that night in the schoolroom, but he jerked his attention back to Lady Juliana. She was watching him closely, and he was suddenly aware she was paying careful attention to his answer.

  “Well enough, I suppose.” He made an effort to match her casual tone. “Her brother, Lord Huntington, is my neighbor, of course, and we—that is, Miss Ramsey and I—were introduced at the start of the season. I’ve known her since she and her brothers arrived in London several months ago.”

  “That long? I see.”

  Something in Lady Juliana’s voice made Hugh wonder if she did see, and far more than he wished her to, but he was saved from replying by the clopping of hooves coming up behind them. They’d let their horses wander unche
cked and had ended up strolling alongside the edge of the main road.

  “Here’s Lord Huntington now.” Lady Juliana’s brow furrowed as Lord Huntington’s coach made its way down the road at a brisk trot. “But isn’t that a traveling coach? How odd. Where do you suppose he’s been?”

  Hugh stared at the coach, his body going cold as it drew closer and closer. “It’s not Lord Huntington.”

  “But the crest—”

  “It’s his coach, but he’s not in it. He sent it to Beaconsfield, to fetch Lord Sydney.”

  Hugh knew a good deal more about Lord Sydney’s situation than he should. The day Isla left, he’d sent one of his stableboys to Huntington Lodge to deliver Sophie, and the lad—by mere chance only, of course—had managed to glean a few details regarding Lord Sydney’s arrival from one of Lord Huntington’s servants.

  Lady Juliana watched as the coach rolled past them. “But doesn’t Lord Sydney have his own coach?”

  “Not anymore. He was in a rather serious accident last week, I’m afraid. His carriage skidded on the icy road, then plummeted into a ditch and was destroyed.”

  Lady Juliana gasped, her hand going to her throat. “How dreadful! Was he badly hurt?”

  “Badly enough, yes. A servant of Lord Huntington’s told one of my stable hands Lord Sydney suffered a few broken bones and a dangerous concussion.”

  “Oh, dear. I’m very sorry to hear that. I don’t know Lord Sydney well, but I’ve always found him to be a lively, pleasant sort of gentleman.”

  “Yes, I believe most people find him so.” The truth was, Lord Sydney was a good fellow. Hugh had always liked him, and he had enormous respect for him for coming forward to save Isla’s reputation after the Lady Entwhistle scandal. It tormented Hugh to think of Isla in Lord Sydney’s arms, but in his saner moments, he was grateful for the man. There was no question Sydney would take good care of Isla.

  “It sounds as if he was fortunate to survive the carriage accident. He’s recovered enough to travel, it appears.”