Never a Bride

by Amelia Grey

  “I’m sorry to say I didn’t know about the earl. My condolences, and congratulations on your son. You’ve been a busy man.”

  Albert grinned. “I’ve a legacy to uphold, you know.”

  “Sounds as if you are well on your way.”

  “To be sure.” Albert hesitated, looked around the room. He leaned in close to Camden and almost whispered, “I hope it wasn’t bad news that brought you home after all this time?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Well, I mean, there have been rumors that you wouldn’t return, not even to claim your bride.”

  “Really? With all the ton has to talk about, why would I cross anyone’s mind? Surely something of magnitude has happened since I’ve been away. Someone far more worthy of gossip than I am.”

  Albert straightened and looked from Camden to Hudson. “Well, I’m sure it’s—well you’ve been gone so long. It’s the gossip columnists. They never forget anything.” He cleared his throat. “Glad to have you back, old chap. Maybe we can meet at White’s or one of the other clubs later in the week for a drink and talk over old times.”

  “We’ll do it,” Camden answered and watched the new Earl of Glenbrighton walk away. His old friend had seemed uncomfortable and on edge. Intuitively Camden knew Albert was hinting at something he didn’t want to come out and say. No doubt it had to do with Camden’s past.

  He looked beyond the swirling colors of dresses and dinner jackets and focused on the flickering flames of a candle on a gilt wall sconce across the ballroom. Unbidden, the years rolled back to Hortense, his first fiancée, and the last party they had attended in London.

  He had been captivated by Hortense the moment he saw her. It was her first Season and every young bachelor sought her attention, plying her with sweets, flowers, and calling on her for rides in the park. But from all appearances she was enchanted only by Camden. They danced at every ball for four weeks before his father agreed he could offer for her hand. She accepted. The engagement was announced and the arrangements were being made by their fathers.

  It happened at the last big party of the Season and most everyone who was anyone in the ton was in attendance. At half past one there was to be a presentation of a copy of the statue Diana the Huntress in the formal garden. Everyone gathered in the great hall for the exhibition. The draperies were pulled back from the windows, but instead of revealing the statue of the goddess, everyone saw Hortense in the arms of another man—kissing madly.

  Someone passing by knocked Camden’s arm and brought him out of his reverie. A cold chill of anger shook him. He realized he was standing stiffly and relaxed his shoulders, thankful for whoever had seen fit to walk into him. Blast it! He was over all that. Forgotten! He vowed to never think of it again. Not Hortense or the man who had been with her.

  Hudson was having a whispered conversation with a sweet-looking petite blonde standing beside him. They were so engrossed in each other Camden could have sworn that they didn’t realize anyone else was in the room. This had to be Miss Pemberton, the young lady who had caught Hudson’s heart and wouldn’t let go. And from the way she was looking at him, she felt the same way about him.

  Clearing his throat, Camden interrupted and said, “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

  “Oh, yes. Camden, may I present Miss Paulette Pemberton. Miss Pemberton, I’d like you to meet my brother, Viscount Stonehurst, who just returned from America.”

  “It’s a pleasure, Miss Pemberton.”

  “For me, too, Lord Stonehurst. Welcome home.”

  Camden nodded. “You are as lovely as my brother said you were.”

  “Thank you. Hudson has often mentioned you, but I was beginning to think you were but a hopeful figment of his imagination. But here you are in the flesh, and almost as dashing as your brother.”

  She barely glanced his way before returning her gaze back to Hudson and giving him a smile. It was clear the two were smitten with each other. Right now, anyway. Camden knew that could change without a moment’s notice.

  “Oh, Camden,” Hudson said quickly. “Here comes the man who can help us. Mr. Archer Hornbeck is over by the buffet table. He is Miss Whittingham’s chaperone for the Season. We have to catch him before he gets away. Miss Pemberton, I hate to rush off when you’ve only just arrived, but would you please excuse us?”

  “I will, although I’m loath to do so.” She smiled up at him, her blue eyes sparkling with young love. “You won’t miss our dance, will you? Promise?”

  He smiled down at her. “Not a chance of it, I assure you. I’ll meet you by the punch table as always.”

  Camden and Hudson strode through the crowd, knocking elbows, brushing against shoulders and rushing greetings and introductions with the people who stopped them along the way.

  “You have a special place to meet Miss Pemberton?” Camden asked when they were once again walking side by side.

  “If we don’t, the dance can be half over before we find each other.” Hudson smiled. “I love her, Camden. I want to marry her.”

  Camden didn’t want to see his brother make the mistakes he’d made when he was Hudson’s age. No one knew better than Camden the pitfalls of being blinded by love.

  “You’re too young to know what you want.”

  “Just because things didn’t work out for you when you were younger doesn’t mean they won’t for me. I know that Miss Pemberton is true to me.”

  Camden stiffened. “I wasn’t aware you knew that much about what happened with Hortense. You were away at school.”

  “Some stories linger longer than others, as you well know. Lord Glenbrighton was right about the scandal sheets.”

  “So it was still the talk of the town when you returned home?”

  “Maybe it was only because everyone wanted to make sure I knew what had happened to my brother.”

  “And do you?”

  “I know enough to imagine how you felt. Thank God you were in America for so long or the talk might have never died away.”

  “Gossip seldom tells the truth, Brother.”

  Hudson stepped in front of Camden and smiled. “Correction. Gossip seldom tells the whole truth.”

  Camden returned the smile. “Perhaps you are wiser than your years.”

  “Perhaps I am,” Hudson said and turned away from Camden and approached a short, balding gentleman. “Mr. Hornbeck, excuse me for interrupting.”

  “Yes,” the sturdily built man turned from the group of men he was talking to and looked squarely at Hudson, then Camden.

  It was clear he didn’t immediately recognize either man, so Hudson stepped forward and made the introductions.

  Camden watched surprise light the man’s pale blue eyes. Camden was certain he saw sweat pop out on his balding head while they exchanged polite greetings.

  “Ah—I’m afraid I didn’t know that you had returned to London, Lord Stonehurst. Does Miss Whittingham and her father know you’re here?”

  “No, I only arrived late last evening. I spent most of the day catching up with my family.”

  Mr. Hornbeck blinked rapidly. “I’m sure.”

  “I’ve been watching for Miss Whittingham, but haven’t seen her,” Hudson explained. “Is she here tonight?”

  The man looked nervously around the dance floor. “Oh, yes. Indeed she is.”

  “How fortunate for Camden,” Hudson said. “We had hoped she would be, but there was always a chance she had attended another party. Perhaps you could present her to my brother. I was going to do the honors, but so far she has eluded us this evening.”

  “Yes, yes, she’s here, but we haven’t been here that long. I’m not sure this is the time or place to… er…” His eyes brightened like blue fire as his gaze continued to scan the dance floor. “Maybe a private meeting between the two of you would be better. Or perhaps her father and the earl would like to be in attendance at the momentous occasion.”

  “I can’t see any reason to stand on ceremony, Mr. Hornbeck,” Camden re
plied. “Since we’re both in here, I’d like to meet her.”

  Archer Hornbeck was stumbling over his words and wringing his hands like a worried mama. Camden wanted to know why his wanting to meet Miss Whittingham had put her uncle on edge. Had everyone assumed he wouldn’t return to claim his bride?

  “Very well, Lord Stonehurst. I can see you won’t be swayed. I will go find her and bring her to you. Shall we meet on the south patio?”

  “I’ll wait for you there.”

  Mr. Hornbeck turned away and Camden looked to his brother. “Are you coming with me, Hudson?”

  “No. That is, if you don’t mind. It’s very close to time for the next dance, and I don’t want to miss it.”

  “I understand.” Camden gave his brother a knowing smile. “I’ll catch up with you later in the evening.”

  Camden was stopped by two friends and several acquaintances as well as being presented to two debutantes before he was able to break away and make his way to the south patio. His return was fast making its way around the large ballroom. He opened the door that led to the stone patio and walked out. Three couples were there talking quietly. He looked at each of them, hoping to find his mystery lady.

  He turned to walk closer to a side door and a flash of something pale in the distance caught his eye. It was a young lady in a white dress wrapped in the arms of a man. His senses heightened. Something about her seemed familiar. Was that the lady he met last night? He had to know.

  He strode down the steps of the patio and into the floral-scented garden. He heard Mr. Hornbeck call to him, but Camden kept walking. The couple sat on a garden bench kissing rather awkwardly, the young lady’s hand seeming to caress the man’s neck.

  “Mirabella!” Hornbeck called from behind Camden. “What in blue heavens is going on here? By all the saints! What are you doing to her, sir? Unhand her this instant.”

  The couple broke apart and both jumped up. The young man’s face was ashen and the young lady’s cheeks flamed red.

  Mirabella? Whittingham?

  Camden’s heart went cold. This young lady kissing, embraced in the arms of another man, was the enchantress he’d met on the street last night.

  She was the woman who had stirred his blood like no other woman had in years, and she was his fiancée.

  Four

  Mirabella was mortified. Light-headed. Angry with herself for getting caught. She should have known her uncle would be keeping a closer eye on her after their discussion last night. This humiliation was her fault.

  She should have waited a day or two while her uncle’s suspicions receded, before resuming her search for the man with the scar. But Mr. Farthingdale had been so eager to dance with her, and he was on her list. She couldn’t pass up the opportunity to check for the blemish that marked Sarah’s seducer.

  Thank God she had managed to discover Mr. Farthingdale had no scar before her uncle showed up and she could strike one more man off her list.

  But what was the dashing gentleman she’d met last night doing standing there with her uncle, looking so very handsome in his formal evening coat? Mirabella never expected to see the stranger again. Her heart fluttered when she glanced at him and that had nothing to do with the fact that she’d been caught in a compromising position.

  There was nothing to do but gather her wits and accept the consequences. Whatever they might be.

  “Would you please excuse us, Mr. Farthingdale?” she said to the gentleman who, looking frightened, was already showing signs of backing away from them.

  “Ah—well, I—”

  It was clear he was being a gentleman in not wanting to leave her facing her uncle and the glaring stranger alone, but he was also eager to be gone. She appreciated him for that, but it would only make matters worse if she let him stay. She could handle her uncle.

  Under her breath she whispered to Mr. Farthingdale. “This is not the time to be chivalrous. I’d like for you to leave.”

  “Surely you don’t want me abandoning you?”

  “Yes, I do. You will end up looking like a nincompoop. You don’t want my uncle calling you out, do you?”

  He barely shook his head. His gaze seemed frozen on her uncle.

  “Go immediately.”

  “Yes, yes, Miss Whittingham,” Mr. Farthingdale managed in a trembling voice. “I believe I will take my leave. If you’ll excuse me. Gentlemen.” He turned his back on them and started walking away.

  “Not so fast, young man.”

  “Uncle Archer, please. Let him go. It’s better that we handle this between you and I.”

  “If only we could, Mirabella,” her uncle said. He blew out a loud breath and wiped the top of his head with his handkerchief.

  Mr. Farthingdale glanced from Mirabella to her uncle. She nodded to him, and he hurried away.

  Her uncle approached with faltering steps. “Mirabella, I’m speechless. Tell me that young blade accosted you, and you were trying to cry out for help. I’ll have him apprehended at once.”

  Uncle Archer’s knitted brows and red face said it all. He was horrified, and had every reason to be. Why did the moon have to be so bright? She didn’t want to see the anger and disappointment in his eyes. Nor did she want to know what was written on the stranger’s face. This was not how she envisioned seeing him again.

  Summoning courage she wasn’t sure she had, Mirabella admitted, “I’m afraid that’s not true, Uncle.”

  “Blue heavens!”

  Mirabella was hot with embarrassment and only wanted to sink into the ground. But she wouldn’t let either of the two men staring at her know how distraught she was over being caught during such an indiscretion.

  “We can discuss this at a more appropriate time, Uncle. Perhaps you’d like to introduce me to the gentleman with you.”

  Reluctantly she took a long look at the man who’d captured her dreams last night and her thoughts all day. She saw brooding anger and condemnation in the depths of his eyes and the way a small muscle worked at the corner of his mouth. His expression crushed her. Why did it bother her so to see how her inappropriate behavior affected him? It hadn’t bothered him like this last night when she was forward with him.

  “No, Mirabella, I wouldn’t.” Uncle Archer shook his head so hard the loose skin under his chin trembled. “I can assure you this is the last man I want to present to you.”

  She held her head high, trying to calm her breathing. Any other night there would be a breeze to cool her heated cheeks, but all she felt was moist, warm air. She desperately wanted to reach up and wipe Mr. Farthingdale’s kiss from her lips, but instead she held her hands at her sides and gently crushed the soft tulle of her gown in her fists.

  “And why is that?” she somehow managed to say with as much calm as if she were pouring afternoon tea.

  The man took a step toward her and very coldly said, “Perhaps because I am Camden Thurston Brackley, Viscount Stonehurst and your fiancé.”

  For a moment she couldn’t breathe. “Oh my, no. That’s impossible.” Mirabella’s whispered words were a protest. She stared at the viscount, trying to make sense of his words. “Surely you can’t be. He’s abroad. Gone.”

  She backed away from him until her legs hit the garden bench she’d just vacated. This couldn’t be true. Fate wouldn’t be that cruel. This intriguing man who’d been so charming last night couldn’t be her fiancé?

  “I was. I just returned from America last night.”

  Mirabella cringed with shame. He had to emphasize the words “last night.” Reminding her they had met. She had been alone. She had kissed him. Oh, merciful heavens, what must he think of her? And all of it was true! What rotten, rotten luck.

  She looked up at him and realized she had been prepared for everything but this. She wanted to run home and bury her face in her father’s shoulder and sob. But she couldn’t do that. She had to stay calm and dig deep inside herself and find the strength to face Lord Stonehurst.

  Mirabella forced herself to look into his
eyes and say, “I’m sorry you chose this awkward moment to seek me out.”

  “I’m sure you are.” His words were clipped.

  “I’m afraid you’ve caught me off guard.”

  “Obviously.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You could start with an apology,” her uncle barked in a barely controlled tone of anger, “but I doubt it will do any good.”

  “I’m sure it wouldn’t,” the viscount answered.

  “What to do? What to do?” Archer mumbled under his breath along with a few other incoherent words as he mopped his face with his handkerchief. He turned to Lord Stonehurst and said, “You’re not going to call Mr. Farthingdale out for this, are you?”

  “No,” he said coldly. “You have my word on that. Once was enough. I don’t need anyone else seeking asylum in France because of me.”

  “Yes, very well. Good. No doubt Mr. Farthingdale will be pleased to hear that, too.”

  Lord Stonehurst’s piercing gaze didn’t waver from Mirabella’s as he talked to her uncle or when he said to her, “I think it would be appropriate to conclude you haven’t been pining away with loneliness during my absence.”

  Mirabella winced. His cutting words hit their mark, but instead of being cowed by them, she lifted her chin and shoulders and answered as strongly as she had a moment ago. “Pining away? Over a man who left me on the shelf for six years. I think not, my lord.”

  “Mirabella, it’s best you don’t say anything else,” her uncle said and motioned for her to come to him. “I’m not responsible for this—this is a situation for your father to handle. No doubt he’ll blame me, but I’m not responsible for what you have done. Come. We’ll get your wrap and go home immediately.”

  Ignoring her uncle, she stared into Lord Stonehurst’s fathomless dark brown eyes and a part of her wanted to cry. God help her, she was angry with him for being her fiancé, angry with him for being here tonight, and angry with herself for getting caught doing something she had to do. She knew as far as he was concerned she was without excuse. She had no defense. She had no way to explain her unacceptable behavior. Mirabella would tell no one of Sarah’s shame.