His Brother's Bride (Historical Regency Romance)

by Rose Gordon

  But only when he was ready to go.

  Not that he'd said that exactly. But that was his exact meaning. He might have told her he'd leave whenever she had her gown on and was ready, but he'd also made sure she knew it only took forty minutes to get there—a reminder not to put it on too soon because he couldn't be bothered with her until forty minutes before the assembly was to start.

  Well she'd show him; she would. She'd march right up to the front door of the main house and demand he spend the day with her. What they'd do, she didn't know, nor did she care overmuch. But she'd not let him put her off like this.

  She halted in her steps. Actually, she didn't have any such right. She had a piece of paper that said she was betrothed to Elijah Banks, not Henry Banks; and since Elijah was already married, her only leverage was that Henry was pretending to be Elijah, presumably to evade a scandal. But she didn't want to push her luck too far and have him admit the truth, because then he could very easily make her leave. She bit her lip.

  Was it really a good idea to thwart him and anger him because she didn't wish to spend time alone? No.

  She heaved a heavy sigh and fisted her hands into the weighty fabric of her skirt.

  Whatever would she do with her day?

  Her eyes caught on a wooden building just ahead. Of course, she'd ride a horse; that had always made her feel better after her stepmother had leveled some sort of punishment on her. And without Henry around, she could ride astride as she was accustomed to doing.

  “Where do ye think yer going?” a gruff stable hand asked her.

  Laura inclined her chin. “To ride a horse.”

  He moved in front of the stable doors. “Not one of these nice hosses, yer not. Ye can ride the nag o'er there.” He pointed to where a horse that was now more grey than black grazed on the grass in the field.

  “I think not.”

  “I donna care what ye think.” He spit on the ground no less than six inches from her toes. “Ye can ride that hossie or none a'tall.”

  “And who are you to say what I can and cannot ride?” Truly, the boy couldn't have been more than seventeen, perhaps eighteen at the oldest. His face was dirty, his hair unkempt, and he had spotted skin like young boys his age were prone to having.

  He flushed. “Now see here, miss. The hosses in here aren't for riding. At least not—”

  “Without proper permission,” Henry said, coming around the barn, “which she has.” He nodded once to her but continued talking to the impertinent stable hand. “Why don't you go put a saddle on Venus?”

  Laura frowned. Must he pick her horse for her, too? “Thank you,” she murmured with even less conviction than she felt.

  He blinked. “For what?”

  Must she say it? Apparently she must if his blank stare was any indication. “For allowing me to ride Venus.”

  “I didn't,” he said slowly, dragging the word out. “I just asked Adam to put a saddle on her. I never said you were riding her.”

  Now it was her turn to blink at him. “What?”

  He opened the barn door. “You may pick your own mount. But if you need help deciding, I'd suggest either April or May.”

  “Then why is he saddling Venus?” she blurted before she could think better of it.

  Henry arched an eyebrow and Laura prepared herself for a scathing retort about being too inquisitive or minding her own business that she just knew he was going to cut loose, not that she deserved anything less. “I imagine the groundskeeper would like to ride his horse when he goes to examine the fence line along the west boundary.” He shrugged. “But I could be wrong.”

  A slow heat crawled up Laura's face.

  Henry opened the door to the stable. “Shall we?”

  Wordlessly, Laura entered the stable where a row of at least twenty horses were lined up in the stables. All so big and beautiful, she finally walked up to a tall black mare with a white diamond between her eyes. “What's her name?”

  “Dame,” he said, running his hand down the horse's mane. “Her brother is over there. His name is Knight.”

  Laura turned to look at the other horse. He was just as beautiful. The only difference, other than their height, was that Knight didn't have the white diamond shape between his eyes; instead, he had four white socks. “He's just as beautiful as she is.”

  “Indeed, two of the finest horses in the country.” The pride in his voice was unmistakable.

  “Whose are they?” she asked, though in her gut she already knew. They were his.

  “Henry's.” His word and tone were both so simple, belying the gleam of pride she glimpsed in his eye. If she didn't already know he was Henry and not Elijah, this one moment would have told her all she needed to know. He reached his tanned hand into a bucket of oats and held out his cupped hand to Knight. “Have you decided on Dame or shall we look at some of the others?”

  Were she the shrew he thought her to be, she'd have asked to see his horses, which of course would have been Elijah's. But for some reason, she didn't want to do that to him. He clearly was proud of his horses—as he should be—and she'd like nothing more than to ride one.

  “No, I think I should like to ride Dame. Then when Henry returns from his current travels, I can be sure to annoy him by bragging that I rode his prized mare.” She flashed him a bright smile. “I'm sure that'll endear me to him all the more.”

  He frowned. “He doesn't dislike you, you know?”

  “So you keep saying,” she said airily. She scooped up a handful of oats and let Dame eat them while Henry walked to the side of the stable and gathered the saddles and blankets they'd need.

  “Well, it's the truth,” he said with a grunt as he passed her to walk into Knight's stall. He adjusted the blanket on Knight's back and then heaved the saddle onto him.

  “And what makes you so certain he doesn't dislike me?” Just watch him struggle to answer that question.

  “I could ask you the same thing. What makes you so certain that he does?”

  Laura snorted, “How surprising that you've decided to answer my question with one of your own just to avoid having to lie.”

  He cinched the saddle and led Knight out of his stall. Then Henry stopped in front of her and met her eyes. “Madam, if we're to one day be married, there is something you should know about me.”

  “And what's that? That you are secretly envious of Henry's horses?” she blurted with the hope of defusing the intense fire that was burning in his eyes.

  “No. It's that I never lie.” He paused just long enough for her to digest his meaning and then added, “Except when the consequence of telling the truth is far worse than the lie itself.”

  She lowered her lashes. He might not know that she knew his real identity, but she understood his cryptic meaning: he was apologizing for the lie he thought he was making her believe, because to him, having his brother's honor called into question was a worse fate than he—Henry—marrying her in his brother's stead.

  Truthfully, she didn't know whether to be thankful or hurt by the meaning behind those words. But since she'd tricked Elijah into signing that contract in the first place, she thought better of challenging him.

  “Therefore,” he continued, oblivious to the inner turmoil she was struggling against, “since my brother's like or dislike for you is irrelevant, I see no reason to lie to you when I say that he doesn't dislike you.”

  Was he saying that as Henry, speaking of Elijah's true feelings for her; or was he speaking as Elijah and trying to tell her that he didn't dislike her. She bit her tongue to keep from asking. Not only would it give away what she knew and create a way for him to call the whole thing off, but it truly didn't matter. So then why was she so curious? She squeezed her eyes shut and commanded herself to stop thinking about it. His feelings for her were completely immaterial. She'd come here for a purpose and must see it through.

  “Are you ready to ride?”

  “Only if you'll take that sidesaddle—”

  ***

/>   Henry grinned at her loss of words. “Never fear, Mrs. Swift. My hearing is in excellent condition. It might not be so widely accepted for the young ladies here to ride astride; but if it's what you wish, who am I to argue?”

  “Are you not worried how it will look if your future wife is seen riding astride?”

  “No.” He adjusted Knight's bridle. “If such a rumor were to slip, I'd be more concerned that someone had known an unmarried lady was alone with me; not that she likes to ride astride. Not that it matters overmuch. The only people who are likely to visit and see that, are my family members, all of whom have made the scandal sheets more often than I can keep up with.”

  “All of them?”

  He helped her onto Dame's back and handed her the reins. “All of them,” he confirmed, swinging up onto Knight. “Which way?”

  She frowned. “You don't have to come with me.”

  “I know I don't have to. I want to.”

  Her frown deepened. “Is that because you don't trust me to ride by myself?”

  He shook his head. “I just thought you might like the company.” He turned his head to the side to hide his grimace. Had he really said that? Yes, indeed, he had because now all he could hear was her throaty laugher.

  “Your lies won't work on me, sir. You said last night that you had to look after things around the estate while your brother was away.”

  “I do. And I'll get to do them much quicker—and with a pretty lady at my side—now that we're on horseback.”

  Her lips thinned, but damned if he knew why. “Very well, which way do you want us to go?”

  “Which way do you want us to go?”

  Without looking, she said, “Left.”

  “Ah, to the creek; good choice.” Henry guided his horse to the left and kept pace with her; though why he was going with her, he'd never truly know. He needed to stay as far away from her as possible. She was dangerous with her secret smiles and delicate curves. She certainly had no problem making a gentleman lust after her. No matter who the gentleman was or how much he resisted. And resist he did. He didn't want to have anything to do with her. Nay, he couldn't have anything to do with her. She might possess a charm she was unaware of, one so powerful he'd been unable to sleep last night; and when he had, it was only to suffer with dreams of her. But she was also too delicate. She was in need of someone whose temperament was closer to hers.

  “And what exactly will be at the creek for you to inspect for your brother?” the object of his thoughts asked.

  Henry steered Knight between two tall trees. “I was supposed to make sure Gibbons and Franklin were still building the gazebo where Caroline plans to host whatever it is Caroline plans to host.”

  “Does your sister-in-law host many events here?” Laura asked, ducking her head as she passed under a low-lying branch.

  “More than Mother ever did. Which doesn't take much, I grant you. My mother abhorred social events, as did my father. Alex tolerates them for the sake of Caroline.”

  “Oh? And how often does she host these things?”

  He scowled. “At least twice a Season, just for family and very close friends, mind you. We've grown to such a big lot that it's like a madhouse when we all try to cram into a townhouse. So Caroline invites everyone here. In the early part of the Season, she likes to do a seven-day house party; and in August, just as the Season is ending, she invites everyone out for a few days to say farewell before traveling home.”

  “She must like to entertain.”

  “Perhaps, or it might be that spending so much time alone with a man who Society had once dubbed—and rightfully so—Arid Alex makes her crave the company of others enough to go to such lengths.”

  “Is she unhappy?”

  “As astonishing as it seems to the rest of us, no, she's actually quite happy.”

  “Then why would she host such extravagant events to escape his company?”

  Botheration! He'd done it again. This was exactly why he needed to find her a more suiting suitor tonight at the assembly in Bath. Surely, she didn't try to be obtuse or without humor; it was just who she was. “She doesn't. She...er...she doesn't really host the parties to escape his notice. In fact, I've caught the two of them sneaking off together quite regularly while everyone else was riding horses or playing games. The real reason Caroline hosts those blasted things is to spend time with my family, though God is the only one who could possibly know why she'd want to do that.”

  “Well, if they're all as charming as you, I can see her reasoning.”

  The breath left Henry's lungs in one swift whoosh. She thought he was charming? Henry opened his mouth to respond, but nothing would come out; not that it would have mattered, because with a clip, clop, clippity clop, she was gone, racing away from him and his warring heart.

  ~Chapter Ten~

  Oh dear. She had not meant to say that. She was too afraid of what she might see to look over her shoulder to find out where he was and couldn't hear if he was approaching over the blood thundering in her ears. What was it about him that made her talk first and think second? Sooner or later that dreadful habit was going to lead her into a lot of trouble.

  At least this particular admission wasn't too terribly damning. Likely, he'd just puff out his chest a bit more and incline his chin a fraction. He already knew he was charming and witty and handsome and all of those other attributes that endeared gentlemen like him to young debutantes.

  She frowned. Robbie had been all of those things, too. Her more vivid memories of him came later, of course, at a time when he was less witty and more...er...something her father used to say that rhymed with it. His charming personality had lost the C, leading her to hide from him or cower in his presence, frightened of what he might say or do next. The more his real personality emerged, the less handsome he became, for there was nothing handsome or endearing about a man who struck his wife with either his hands or his words.

  Henry was different though. Or perhaps he wasn't. She didn't know. He was certainly more handsome to gaze upon with his golden hair and sparkling blue eyes, high cheekbones and a square jaw that framed his lopsided smile. A very handsome specimen, if she ever saw one. As for wit and charm... He oozed it. He might think she didn't understand his jests, and she wouldn't lie, there'd been a few she hadn't; but his jests and easy charm were the most difficult aspect about him to accept. She'd allowed herself to be won over by a charmer before, only to find he wasn't as charming after the vows had been spoken. She shivered. The last thing she wanted was to marry another man like Robbie. She steeled her spine. But if she had to in order to gain an audience with a certain relative of his, then so be it.

  “Are you training to ride in the horse races at Ascot?”

  Laura didn't take her eyes off the open field in front of her. “No. I just felt like a good run.”

  “If a good run is what you have in mind, I'll have to introduce you to Zeus. He's the fastest I've ever seen, but a bit of a spirited steed.”

  She slowed Dame to a canter. “Spirited?”

  “Very. He gets restless when not allowed to run and has bucked at least three men from his back.”

  “You?”

  He shook his head. “We have an understanding, he and I. I saved him from a ball of lead to the brain and brought him here.” He twisted his lips. “I think his bucking had less to do with wanting his own way and more to do with how he was being treated under their care. But I still don't like taking chances, so if you'd like to ride him, we'll have to ride him together.”

  A shiver skated down her spine. Ride a horse. Together. “That's all right.” She gave Dame a loving pat on her neck and rubbed her mane. “Dame here is just right.”

  “I'm sure Henry will be pleased you like his filly so much,” Henry muttered.

  “You will be sure to tell him, won't you?”

  He nodded once, the movement as rigid as his chest appeared.

  She flushed. She shouldn't be thinking such thoughts about him. “Goo
d.” She cleared her throat and slowed Dame to a trot. “I'd hate for him not to know that I don't return his feelings.”

  Henry matched her pace. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, I do believe it is.”

  “And just when did you become privy to Henry's thoughts? Did you invent some sort of mind-reading device? Because if you did, I'd like to convince Alex to lend you the money to have it reproduced so I could purchase one and read your thoughts.”

  Her breath caught, whether because she was nervous or excited, she'd never know. “Sir, you couldn't begin to navigate the thoughts in my mind with a mind-reading device. You'd require a map and a compass at the very least, and possibly a chart of the stars, which would get you barely inside my thoughts.”

  “Why is it that I believe you?”

  “Because you don't know anything about ladies.”

  He chuckled. “Indeed. And do you think you know everything there is to know about gentlemen?”

  “Of course.” Without meaning to, she gripped the reins tighter but then forced her hands to relax. “Your sex is comprised of simple creatures, I'm afraid.”

  “Simple?”

  “Yes, simple.”

  Frowning at her, he said, “I don't think I'm so simple.”

  “Of course you don't think you are. But you are.”

  “How so?”

  Must she say it aloud? “You already know.”

  “It would seem that I don't, or I wouldn't have asked.”

  Laura pulled Dame to a stop. “Pleasure.”