Never a Bride

by Amelia Grey

  This was far worse than she could have ever imagined. She had convinced herself that Viscount Stonehurst would never return for her. That her fiancé could have shown up and caught her in the arms of another man was bad enough, but for her fiancé to be the same man who had filled her heart with a longing to be kissed made the hurt almost unbearable.

  If only they had exchanged names last night. If only she’d waited a few days after Uncle Archer had spoken to her about her behavior. If only fate hadn’t decided to be so cruel. And worst of all, her father would have to know what she had been up to and that she had deliberately ruined her reputation and the possibility of marriage.

  “Mr. Hornbeck, would you leave us alone for a few moments?”

  Mirabella’s gaze flew to Lord Stonehurst’s again.

  Her uncle shook his head, clearly distressed. “I’m sure I can’t do that under the circumstances, Lord Stonehurst. I think you should talk to her father, not to me and not to her.”

  “It’s all right, Uncle Archer,” Mirabella said, walking closer. Her legs were shaky, and her body was stiff with pain, but she had to push all that aside. “I think we do need a moment alone.”

  He uncle sighed heavily. “If you insist, I guess it’s all right. The harm is already done. I’ll stand over there on the patio and wait for you because I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

  Lord Stonehurst looked at her, allowing his gaze to sweep up and down her face as if seeing her for the first time. His outrage was to be expected. But she was committed to Sarah, and she couldn’t have changed her course of action.

  Tension clogged in her throat. She sensed that he was holding the brunt of his anger in check by a mere breath. The air around them seemed to crackle like lightning during a summer thunderstorm.

  Refusing to buckle under the strain, softly she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me who you were last night?”

  “You didn’t tell me your name.”

  “You were a stranger to me.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  Mirabella instantly wanted to take back her words. Naturally he would remind her that she had kissed that stranger. “I didn’t know you, but it’s clear now that you knew who I was. That was unfair.”

  “No.” His eyes darkened with anger. “I didn’t know your identity. How could I? We had never met. I had just arrived in London, and I hadn’t even been to see my family because it was so late when the ship docked.”

  She believed him. That he hadn’t deceived her about that made her feel a little better, but there was no graceful way out of this very uncomfortable situation. “The only thing I can do is apologize.”

  “Under the circumstances that’s little comfort.”

  The condemning tone of his truthful words rattled her for a moment, but only for a moment. Who did he think he was to sound so righteous? What encouragement had she received from him these past years?

  She shook off her shame and embarrassment and suddenly bristled with anger. “I understand you feel betrayed, but at least I’ve offered you an apology. I haven’t heard one from you.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and glared at her. “An apology from me? Whatever for?”

  “For being gone six years.”

  “You jest, Miss Whittingham. There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m certain there wasn’t a time limit on our families’ arrangement.”

  “A properly brought up gentleman would have been aware of the passing time and not have kept his fiancée waiting so long.”

  The muscle at the corner of his mouth twitched with tension again. “So in my absence, you decided to seek solace in the arms of another man?”

  Solace was not the word she would have used, and Mirabella wasn’t about to admit to anything. “I’m sure you never sought the comfort of a woman’s arms these years you’ve been gone.” She took a step closer to him and lowered her voice even more. “If you haven’t, then I will confess to being a weaker person than you, Lord Stonehurst.”

  A slight flare of what she thought to be admiration glinted in his eyes for a few seconds, but all too quickly the anger returned. “You give me too much credit, Miss Whittingham.”

  “Accept only what’s deserved.”

  “Are you in love with him?”

  “Who? Mr. Farthingdale?” She lifted her chin. “Certainly not.”

  “You were kissing him. If you don’t love him, then obviously I am to assume you make a habit of kissing men you don’t love?”

  Oh, why had she been so enchanted by him last night that she kissed him? She was trapped. “It would appear to you that is the case, for it is true I have no affectionate feelings for Mr. Farthingdale.”

  He unfolded his arms and advanced one step toward her. “You puzzle me, Miss Whittingham. Last night I found you walking the streets alone. You kissed me when we parted.”

  “It was only a little buss on the cheek.” A powerful kiss.

  His dark eyes stayed steady on her face. “A kiss nonetheless. And tonight I find you wrapped in the arms of a man. What am I to think?”

  “It is your fault, Lord Stonehurst.”

  He frowned deeply and tensed again. “Mine?” he asked ruefully.

  She wouldn’t back down. “Yes.”

  “This is because I’ve been gone longer than what you deemed proper? Longer than you’d hoped?”

  “I dared not hope you would return,” she said, her own anger rising again. “I overheard you tell my father you would not return until you were old and gray. Congratulations, sir, you almost made it.”

  “You were eavesdropping?”

  She ignored his accusation and allowed him to add it to his ever growing list of her faults. She was guilty of far worse.

  “After my first Season passed and you didn’t return, I assumed I’d been put on the shelf. If you’d been here three years ago, or two months ago or even last week, I wouldn’t have been kissed by another man. Therefore it is your fault.”

  “Your courage is extraordinary.”

  Mirabella’s voice grew softer. “I speak the truth. I resigned myself to never being a bride, Lord Stonehurst. Must I go through life without a kiss, too?”

  His eyes narrowed. His expression softened, but only for a flash.

  “A kiss is all you wanted?” His voice lowered. His eyes grew fierce. Fury radiated from him. “Very well, Miss Whittingham.”

  Camden grasped her upper arms and pulled her to him. His lips covered hers quickly, hard and hungry, completely scorching her with his strength, his heat, and his desire. Blood rushed to her ears. Her breasts pressed against his chest. Breath swooshed out of her lungs. She felt his power, his anger, his punishment in the way his hands held her arms and his lips moved over hers.

  As suddenly as he had grabbed her, he let her go and stepped away unapologetically.

  Gooseflesh rose on her skin.

  Mirabella was astonished, frightened, exhilarated. Lord Stonehurst’s kiss was nothing like the flat pressing together of dry lips that she had endured from fumbling gentlemen all week. There was nothing awkward or hesitating in the viscount’s kiss. It was hot, searing, and passionate.

  “You should have waited until I returned.” His words spilled from a ragged breath.

  Behind an unexpected broken gasp she whispered, “If only I had known you would. Right now, I feel as if I haven’t ever been kissed before you.”

  He looked stunned, caught off guard by her honesty, but quickly recovered and said, “What’s done can’t be undone. I will not be made a fool of twice. The engagement must be broken.”

  Mirabella felt as if a knife had pierced her heart. His rejection of her was complete. “Of course, I understand that.”

  She kept her composure, if not her dignity. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, she was wounded down to her inner soul by this intriguing man.

  “I’ll call on your father tomorrow and settle the final arrangements with him.”

  “All right, but I would like the opportuni
ty to speak with him first, if you don’t mind. He hasn’t been well recently, and I think this will be easier for him to accept coming from me. Would you please not come until early in the evening, or perhaps even the day after tomorrow?”

  He nodded and looked away from her and she wondered if it was that he could no longer tolerate the sight of her.

  Mirabella managed to walk past him toward her uncle with her head held high. She wouldn’t think about Lord Stonehurst or what might have been.

  She had begun her search for Sarah’s seducer knowing it would ruin her reputation. She had set a course that now she couldn’t stop, but she had never dreamed her fiancé would return and catch her in the arms of another man.

  What a cruel hand fate had dealt her. Her fiancé was the only man she had kissed because she wanted to, and the only man whose kiss she had enjoyed. And the only man she couldn’t have.

  Five

  Viscount Stonehurst Returns

  If you missed the ball at the Worsters’ last evening you missed the party of the Season. Viscount Stonehurst has returned, and all the debutantes’ heads are turning toward him. There’s already talk that his engagement to Miss Mirabella Whittingham, which has lasted over six years, will not last the Season. Hmm. One has to wonder why he stayed away so long. Could the reason be the long-standing rumor of a jealous mistress was true? And if so, will he go back to America for her? Word has it that no one actually saw him last evening with his patient, dutiful bride-to-be, but there is no doubt he was looking for her. I’m told he carelessly brushed off everyone who tried to speak to him when he departed, and Miss Whittingham left by way of the back garden. Hmm. If anyone has any details of what appears to be an unhappy reunion please let this one know and all will be told right here.

  —Lord Truefitt, Society’s Daily Column

  Camden threw the paper on the bed. He didn’t know why his mother had slipped it under his door. Surely she, of all people, knew he had no desire to read about himself in the “Society Column.” Their heavy-inked gossip was one of the reasons he went abroad. And that’s where he should have stayed. Responsibility be damned.

  He was a man with a purpose as he strode down the stairs of his parents’ town home the next morning. He needed to tell them immediately that the wedding was off, and that there would be no further talk of it. He didn’t care how the scandal sheets handled this broken betrothal.

  He’d been through it before. All those angry feelings stirred up from the past had knotted his stomach all night. Thank God he wasn’t in love with Miss Mirabella Whittingham as he had been with Hortense. Miss Whittingham had intrigued him with her freshness, her boldness, and her intelligence. That was all. Surely in all of London, he could find another lady as provoking and as invigorating as Miss Whittingham, who had not been as free with her affections.

  The thing that bothered him most about her was that even after he had seen her in the arms of another man, still she haunted his dreams. She had such an innocent appearance about her to be so strikingly bold.

  Two unfaithful fiancées. What were the odds that would happen to any man? Could no woman be faithful? Maybe he was destined to seek his pleasure in the arms of a paid mistress who was not interested in marriage or in the fact that he’d bear the title of earl one day. Perhaps he should leave it to Hudson to marry and produce a son and one day assume his father’s legacy.

  Imagine Miss Whittingham trying to lay the blame on him and make him feel like a schoolboy who needed his knuckles rapped for misbehaving, simply because he failed to notify her when he would be home to wed her. The chit had nerve.

  He strode into the dining room, but it was empty. He went through the doorway into the kitchen and found the maid. She told him his parents were in the garden. His parents’ lifestyle was another surprise to him. Something wasn’t right in their household. Their servants had been reduced to an old footman who could hardly get around on his own and two maids who took care of the cleaning, caring for the clothes and the cooking. Camden didn’t know how the two of them kept up with everything.

  He walked through the kitchen and into the cupboard room and stopped to look out the window at the small garden. His father sat in a chair reading the Times. His mother stood beside him arranging flowers in a vase that was placed in the center of the table. They were the perfect picture of a titled couple, when he didn’t look too closely.

  His father was dressed in a brown striped suit, a shirt that was no longer white and a faded, brown cravat. His mother wore a faded puce-colored morning dress that should have been discarded long ago. Her wide brimmed hat was pulled low over her eyes. The rice straw hat had crimped edges from years of use.

  Camden realized he had missed them. He was glad to be home. He didn’t know what had happened to his father’s income and holdings. He wanted to help restore the life they were used to, but marrying Miss Whittingham wasn’t the answer. His gaze drifted upward to the sky. He hadn’t missed the gray days of London when he’d been in America. Baltimore had plenty of days filled with sunshine. That was one thing he’d miss about that land across the sea.

  He opened the door and stepped outside onto the slate patio.

  “Good morning, Camden.” His mother’s face brightened with a smile. “It fills my heart with cheer to have you home.”

  He walked over to the table and kissed her cheek.

  “Did you find the newsprint I put under your door? I do want to hear all about what happened at the Worsters’.”

  Camden nodded.

  His father laid down the paper. “No sooner will we get used to having him home again than it will be time for him to move into his own place with his new bride.”

  “I know. The time will pass too quickly,” his mama said in a sighing voice. “Earlier, I was making a list of all the things we need to do: the guest list for the wedding, looking at houses to lease, and of course hiring servants. You’ll need your own carriage and footman. Cabs are just too expensive these days, and no one walks the streets anymore.” She stuck the last flower into the vase and said, “I’ll pour you some tea.”

  “Wait, Mama. I don’t care for tea right now.” A mild breeze blew his hair across his forehead and he brushed it aside. “I need to tell you something. There won’t be a marriage between me and Miss Whittingham.”

  “What?” His father rose from his chair.

  His mother went rigid beside him. “Don’t tease about this, Camden. Of course there will be a wedding. That’s why you came home.”

  “We settled this yesterday, Camden,” his father said, picking up the newsprint again and immediately slamming it back down on the table. The wind picked it up, sailed it across the lawn where it caught on a flowering shrub. “You came back home to fulfill your vow and marry her. Why are you fighting this so hard?”

  His father’s words angered him, but he held his tone in check. “It’s true I returned knowing it was your intention for me to marry Miss Whittingham. Even though I preferred to wait a year longer, I was willing to consider the possibility of doing that. Unfortunately things have changed.”

  He refused to go into details about what happened last night. He didn’t want his father to know he’d caught Miss Whittingham in the arms of another man. It wasn’t just the fact that he didn’t want his father to know that he’d been taken by another dishonorable woman.

  For some reason he didn’t understand, Camden was reluctant to further besmirch Miss Whittingham’s reputation. He didn’t know why he cared whether or not her name was ruined. It was obvious she had no thought for her own character. She admitted she didn’t even love the man she was kissing.

  “Your plans can’t change.” His mother whimpered, her bottom lip trembling. She pulled a handkerchief from under the cuff of her sleeve.

  “We don’t have the money for them to change. I thought you understood that.” His father’s voice softened from anger to a tone that sounded like defeat. Suddenly he looked older than his fifty-four years.

  C
amden was uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going. He didn’t like the way he was feeling, and he didn’t like having to defend himself. “This doesn’t have anything to do with money. I have enough, and I’ll repay the dowry.”

  “It has everything to do with money. You have to forget whatever has happened and marry that girl. There is no need to plan for a long engagement. We have all waited long enough.”

  Camden gritted his teeth.

  “I wish everyone would stop telling me how long I’ve been gone. You act as if I’ve been away thirty years. Miss Whittingham wasn’t even of marriageable age when I left.”

  “We don’t need you to repay the first half of the dowry. We need to secure the other half of it as soon as possible. All my investments have gone sour. We have enough money to get by from the entitled lands but there is no extra money for other things, Camden.”

  His father was acting as if he hadn’t protested at all and Camden knew why. His had always been short of cash as long as Camden could remember. That was one of the reasons he’d allowed his father to make this match. Twice was one time too many.

  “I’m sorry if you were counting on that, sir.”

  “Son,” his father said, “let me see if I can make this clear. You have to marry Miss Whittingham. There is not enough time to work out details on a new match for you or Hudson. Creditors are knocking at our door. If they suspect the betrothal is off, there’s no telling what they will do.”

  Exasperation quickly rose in Camden that his father had somehow managed to get himself in such dire financial straits again. And for the second time he expected Camden to rescue him.

  “Last night I caught my fiancée in the arms of another man. Does that bring back memories for anyone other than me?” His gaze jerked from one parent to the other.

  His father looked away from him and blinked slowly. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  “Perhaps they were dancing,” his mother offered nervously. “Surely if she was in a man’s arms they were dancing.”