Never a Bride

by Amelia Grey

  “I should think not.”

  He regarded her a moment longer and nodded his head in understanding, though Mirabella knew he was thinking that no properly brought up young lady should ever wander away from anywhere without a chaperone. And he was right. But being proper had become less of a concern for her recently.

  Mirabella realized he was carefully looking her over to decide if she was a lady from polite Society or merely a well-dressed lady of the evening. Heat rose up her neck at his blatant appraisal.

  She tilted her nose back a fraction. “I assure you, sir, that this is not something I do often.”

  “In that case, you shouldn’t be left alone without a chaperone.”

  She liked the sound of his voice. It was soothing, comforting in its richness of tone and a bit authoritative. There was no doubt he was British and a member of Polite Society, but she detected a faint American flavor to some of his words. She’d seen that same golden brown color to his skin on some of the visiting Americans she’d encountered in London.

  “I’ll escort you back to the party,” he said.

  She blinked. Although she had been doling out kisses like they were sweets, even she recognized that returning to the Talbots’ party escorted by a stranger was beyond the pale. She’d have to slip back into the formal garden the way she had stolen out of it, and the sooner the better.

  “No, I couldn’t let you do that. I arrived here safely and have no doubt I shall return the same. No cause to worry. A short stroll, and I’ll be there.”

  She started to turn away, but he touched her upper arm and she stopped. It was only a featherlight brush of his hand, and it didn’t linger, but the contact was enough to send sizzling tingles across her breasts. For reasons she didn’t understand, there was something strangely compelling about him, and somehow she knew she was not in any danger from him.

  “What kind of gentleman would I be if I allowed you to walk back to the party alone?”

  “A perfectly fine one,” she insisted.

  He smiled. “You’re right. I am, which is why I want to make sure you come to no harm. If it will make you more comfortable, I’ll flag the next cab that comes along and have you driven there.”

  Drive her there? Then she realized that he couldn’t tell that a party was going on in the house beyond the hedge and gardens. Thank goodness he didn’t know where she had come from. The less he knew about her the better. The last thing she needed was another man talking about her impropriety.

  “Yes, that’s a good idea. I will wait here for a carriage. It’s not necessary for you to stay with me.” She made a point of looking up one side of the quiet street and down the other before settling her green gaze on his eyes. “I don’t see danger lurking around the corner, and I’m not afraid.”

  He chuckled softly. “I’m sure you’re not. But I’m not going to leave you out here alone.”

  Merciful heavens, why did she have to meet such a gentleman now of all times? What was she to do? He was deliberately not taking her word that she didn’t need his help.

  “That is kind of you, sir, and I’m most grateful,” she said, forcing a smile while trying to keep her tone calm and level. “But I truly don’t want to keep you from your plans.”

  His gaze didn’t leave her face. “I’ve only just returned to London from a long absence, so I don’t have anything for you to intrude upon.”

  A vagrant cloud sailed past the moon and white light from the sphere seemed to wrap around them, making her forget that she didn’t know this man, and that she didn’t want to know him. Why was she suddenly having these unsettling, womanly feelings?

  “In that case, sir, welcome home,” she whispered.

  The sparkle in his eyes darkened and the corners of his mouth tightened just enough for her to see that something was wrong. Conflicting emotions that flashed across his face made her wonder if he was indeed happy to be back in London. And if not, she couldn’t help but wonder why.

  “You’ve been in America,” she stated without thinking.

  “Yes.” He sounded surprised, and his eyes brightened again. His gaze continued to hold softly on her face.

  “Each year we have more and more Americans visiting London, and I’ve become acquainted with some of them. I heard a trace of their accent in your voice. I see their sun in your face.” She lowered her gaze to his hands. “The color of your skin. Not many Englishmen have such a golden hue.”

  “You’re very perceptive.”

  She tilted her chin a little higher. She was intensely aware of everything about him. From his slow, even breaths to the shine on his boots. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to drink in every detail of this man.

  “It’s not a difficult thing to detect when you’ve spent time with Americans,” she offered.

  “And you?” His expression took on a thoughtful quality. “It would be my guess that you spend the Season in London and the rest of the year in Kent or some other home, as do most Londoners. Am I right?”

  “Yes. We have a home in Kent, but we’ve spent more than the spring and summer at our town house here in London the past couple of years.”

  “Why is that? Most people can’t wait to retire to their country estates and begin their house parties.”

  Mirabella looked past him to the rows of streetlamps fading in the thickening mist. She could have easily told this stranger they stayed to be near her father’s physician, but she restrained herself from being so intimate with him. It was scandalous that she was talking to him.

  Instead she said, “I love London, especially in the winter when the wind has a bite. The commercial district is always so alive with shoppers and businessmen hurrying about their daily duties. The shops are warm and toasty. In the evenings, lamplight glistens off the snow and makes everything so white.”

  The last trace of concern left his face. “That tells me you like to take walks and tonight was no unusual occurrence.”

  His smile was so genuine, so charming, that she was enchanted. She returned his smile, liking him more with each passing moment. The warmth she saw in his brown eyes and his caring attitude captivated her.

  The clop of hooves on cobblestones and clank of carriage wheels caught her attention and forced her to glance away from his gaze. “Here comes a cab. That didn’t take long.”

  “No, not long enough,” he said, his voice a rugged breath of sound.

  His words brushed over her, and she was foolishly pleased that he felt the same way she did.

  The gentleman stepped forward and held up his hand, signaling the two-wheeled carriage. The driver pulled the horse to a stop in front of them.

  He turned back for her. Their gazes held for a long moment, as if neither wanted to break away first. Finally he said, “The address?”

  His eyes inspired trust. She wanted to give him her address and her name as well. She wanted to add that she could be free for a ride in Hyde Park tomorrow afternoon, but she couldn’t say any of those things to him.

  A light breathy feeling fluttered deep in her throat and she softly, reluctantly said, “I can’t tell you that.”

  The corners of his wide mouth lifted in an amused smile. Her heart tripped. For the first time in her life she was attracted to a man. That he was handsome had nothing to do with it. She’d been kissed by handsome men and never felt this way. This man was kind, clever and cared about her welfare.

  His smile turned into a devilish grin. “Then how am I to give the driver instructions as to how to get you back to the party?”

  Heat flamed in her cheeks for the second time. What a besotted ninny she was to think he wanted to know about her and where she lived. For a moment, the warmth of his smile had her believing he was feeling the same wondrous attraction she felt.

  “Yes, of course. Number one hundred and three Ferrington Place.”

  The gentleman repeated the address for the driver, then opened the door of the cab and turned back to her. “Are you sure you don’t want me to accompany y
ou?”

  No, I’m not sure. Come with me.

  “Quite.” She hesitated. “Though, if you’d like to give me an address or your name, my father will see to it that the fare is repaid.”

  “You wound me. I wouldn’t dream of accepting money for helping a lady in distress.”

  He held out his hand palm up. She paused only for a second before she placed her gloved hand in his. She immediately felt warmth as he closed his fingers around hers. Heat shimmied up her arms, across her chest to flood her neck and face. Her pulse tapped erratically in her ears. For one untamed moment, she felt giddy, and that made Mirabella feel wonderful.

  She wanted to toss aside caution and ask this gentleman to ride with her. She wanted to step into the carriage and be cocooned with him in the darkness. She wanted to smile at him, laugh with him, and flirt with him. She didn’t want this to be the last time she saw him.

  He lightly squeezed her fingers. An exhilarating flame of desire awakened inside her. This was her fourth Season of London’s parties and balls. She’d met gentlemen of all ages, all heights and with many different personalities. This was the first man who made her want to dance under the stars and steal kisses in the moonlight.

  She gathered her skirt with her free hand and, with his help, stepped into the carriage. She quickly turned back to face him, but slowly let her fingers slide through his as she said softly, “Thank you. I wish I could repay your kindness.”

  A rakish smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “You can.”

  An expectant breath caught in her throat. Her heart tripped for the second time. Would he ask for a kiss? No, she couldn’t allow it even if he asked. He was a stranger. But kissing gentlemen was exactly what she’d been doing since she devised the scheme to find the man responsible for Sarah’s death. Why not kiss one more? She longed to feel his lips on hers and erase all the trite intimacies she’d endured this past week.

  “Yes,” she managed to say, feeling herself lean forward wanting, needing, already offering her lips.

  “Promise me the next time you are at a boring party and want fresh air that you’ll ask someone to escort you properly.”

  Her lashes fluttered. A flush surged in her cheeks once again as she drew back from him. She swallowed a shallow breath. “Of course. You can be sure I’ll do that.”

  A dancing light played in his eyes and twitched the corners of his desirable mouth. “You look, somehow, disappointed.”

  Now he was the one flirting with her, but she didn’t mind. She had always been circumspect when with a gentleman until this year. Now it seemed as if she were casting away all her inhibitions.

  Her embarrassment faded and before she could think better of it, she boldly said, “I thought you were going to ask for a kiss as payment for your help.”

  His eyes flashed with surprise. “As a gentleman, I couldn’t.” Then his eyes darkened with desire. “But as a man, if I had thought there was any possibility I’d receive one, I would have asked.”

  Mirabella smiled, confidence filling her. All week she had been kissing gentlemen for whom she had no feelings whatsoever. Now she was going to kiss a man because she wanted to. She bent down and briefly touched her lips to the side of his mouth, lingering only a moment but long enough to catch the masculine scent of him, capture the taste of him. She heard his breath lodge in his throat. It pleased her that she had surprised him.

  He reached for her, but she deftly leaned back into the carriage and escaped his grasp. “Thank you again for your help,” she said softly and pulled the door shut behind her.

  ***

  “She allowed me to kiss her.”

  “Truly? I kissed her, too.”

  “All I can add is that she is a delicious morsel, and I plan to have a go at walking with her in the garden.”

  Camden Thurston Brackley, Viscount Stonehurst, sat back in his chair at Jack’s Tavern. He couldn’t help overhearing the conversation at the next table, but gave it little thought. He had his own kiss on his mind. After walking back to the gentlemen’s club and settling into the first chair he found, he had ordered a brandy.

  He could still feel the young lady’s invitingly tempting lips on the side of his mouth. He had been with his share of women and couldn’t understand why this one had affected him more than most. But she had. And he didn’t even know her name. Maybe that was part of her allure.

  Forcing her from his mind, he turned his attention back to the conversation of three young bucks sitting at a nearby table.

  “With our first kiss she was slipping her fingers down my neckcloth, trying to get under my shirt.”

  “Mine, too!”

  “I’ve not yet had an opportunity to ask her to dance.”

  “You’ll have to get in line. Every chap in Town is trying to get on her dance card in hopes of slipping out into the garden with her.”

  Camden listened, slightly amused by the boasting. From their conversation it was clear that London Society hadn’t changed in the six years he’d been gone. Well, maybe some things. The bachelors seemed younger to him now that he was nearing his thirtieth birthday.

  The dim lighting and masculine decor of the taproom hadn’t changed over the years. Neither had the heavy smells of liquor and cooked food or the constant drone of hushed conversations and muted laughter coming from the gaming tables in the next room. Many were the times years ago when he would sit in this very club with his friends and discuss the latest debutantes. The ones bold enough to allow kisses were always a favorite topic of conversations.

  Camden didn’t pity the young lady they were discussing. No doubt she was enjoying the attention and assumed she could still make an acceptable match. He knew from experience that for some women one man just wasn’t enough, but only the most desperate of men would offer for a young lady who was so free with her affection.

  His thoughts drifted back to the young lady he’d met earlier in the evening. He’d known immediately that she was from quality and money. Although, he had wondered why she was alone on the street. He found it difficult to believe she had wandered so far away from the party simply because she was in need of fresh air.

  The invitingly scooped neckline of her silk evening gown showed the pale skin of her chest and the swell of her breasts. He’d had the urge to reach out and glide his fingertips down her cheeks and outline her lips with his thumb. He wanted to reach over and place a kiss in the hollow of her throat.

  At first it had struck him that she was running from someone, but he discounted that when he looked into her eyes and saw no fear. They were such a clear shade of green. The color reminded him of the fresh appeal of spring’s first leaf. Wispy strands of her dark auburn hair had fallen from the confines of the carefully placed bows and flowers pinned on the top of her head. She was slightly built but taller than most young women—and certainly more daring.

  He liked what he saw when he looked at her and what he heard when he spoke to her. She was intelligent, friendly and bold to the point of being careless with her reputation. He liked the way the moonlight shone on her hair and glistened off her beautiful skin. He liked the way she teased him with the brief kiss that had just missed his lips. Had she kissed the corner of his mouth by mistake or design? Did she know that it would intrigue him until he discovered the answer?

  He remembered how the limp silk of her dress had molded softly to her rounded breasts. Their fullness barely peeked from beneath the flimsy material. She held herself well with a slight tilt to her chin so she could look into his eyes. At times, he had felt she hadn’t wanted to look away—and neither had he.

  When she’d reached down and pressed her lips to the side of his mouth, he’d caught a whisper of the scent of a spice. Cinnamon or clove? He wasn’t sure, though he was sure that he wanted to see her again and find out. But that was impossible. He was destined for another.

  The clink of glasses and good-natured laughter caught Camden’s attention. The chaps at the table next to him were on their second rou
nd. He had to stop thinking of the young lady who had intrigued him. He couldn’t allow himself to continue to dwell on her dreamy eyes, her heart-shaped face or her softly pale skin.

  Camden sipped his aged brandy and looked around the dimly lit room, searching for a face he recognized among the members. Surely conversation with an old acquaintance would get his mind off her. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he’d been thunderstruck by a woman again, after all these years. And there was no way in hell he would allow that.

  He had arrived in Town late in the evening and hadn’t wanted to disturb his father’s household in the middle of the night, so he had taken a carriage directly to the club his family had been members of since it opened fifty years ago. He knew he would find food, drink and a bed. After securing a room, he decided to go for a brisk walk to purge his senses of the salty sea air that clung to him from the long sea voyage.

  His father, Wilson Thurston Brackley, Earl of Lockshaven, had finally gotten his attention by having his mother write a letter and plead with him to come home immediately. She insisted that he had neglected his responsibilities to his family and that as a man of honor he must come home. He hadn’t wanted to return. Not yet. He’d needed another year in America to solidify his investments.

  But while it had been easy to ignore his father’s many appeals for him to claim his bride, he hadn’t been able to disregard his mother’s pleas that he marry the young lady he’d been betrothed to for six years.

  Two

  “Oh, Camden, thank God you’re home.” His mother’s lips trembled with happiness as he walked into the parlor of his parents’ town home. “We’ve worried so about you, and wondered if you’d ever return.” Her pale brown eyes turned misty with tears of relief as he reached her.

  “You don’t look a day older than when I left, Mama,” Camden said. Though he was surprised at how her classic features had aged in the half dozen years he’d been gone. He reached down and kissed her soft, blushing cheek, and gave her a gentle hug before turning to his father.