Never a Bride

by Amelia Grey

  “Yes, it is true that I would like to travel there one day,” the man said with an uncomfortable edge still in his voice.

  Camden’s gaze bored into Farthingdale’s, hoping the man could see how much strength it was taking for Camden to keep his anger under control and make a hasty retreat. “Let me suggest that this is an excellent time of year to travel the seas and the land. Do plan to stay for a long time. There’s so much to see.”

  “Oh, excuse me,” Albert said. “There goes the Duke of Highbury. I need to speak to him. I must hurry.”

  Albert rushed away, leaving Camden feeling as if his friend had staged this undesirable meeting with the man who had so recently kissed Mirabella’s lips. Suddenly Camden didn’t know who he wanted to strangle more—Albert or Farthingdale.

  “Farthingdale, I’m glad I caught up with you.” A handsome young gentleman with a fair complexion came running up to them before either had the opportunity to take their leave. “I must ask if you were able to steal a kiss from Miss Whittingham the other night.”

  “Ah—no. No,” he choked out. “She was a perfect lady. Perfect. I must introduce—”

  “Do say?” the man interrupted, clearly not interested in who Camden was at the moment. “When I was in the garden with her she purred like a kitten in my arms.”

  Camden saw red.

  Hell and damnation! How many men had Mirabella been with?

  “Stephenson, stop. Please,” Farthingdale said in a squeaky voice, his gaze jumping wildly from his friend to Camden. “I don’t believe you’ve heard Miss Whittingham’s fiancé is back in Town.”

  “And standing right beside you,” Camden ground out, unable to hold on to his anger any longer.

  In one fluid motion Camden grabbed Stephenson by the shoulders, pushed him backward, and then shoved him up against the side of the stone house. Without conscious thought, he rammed his forearm against the man’s throat.

  Stephenson’s eyes bulged as his head smacked against the wall. With trembling hands and grasping fingers, he tried to rip Camden’s arm away from his neck. Camden pressed harder with his arm.

  “I don’t believe anyone wants to hear anything you have to say about Miss Whittingham. Not now. Not ever,” Camden said in a growling voice. “Do I make myself clear?”

  Farthingdale drew in close to the two but didn’t attempt to stop Camden. “I tried to warn you, you ninny. May I present Viscount Stonehurst, Miss Whittingham’s fiancé, just back from the wild new land across the sea.”

  “This is—not the time for proper—introductions, Farthing—dale,” Stephenson managed to say between gasps of much-needed air. “Help me, you jackass.”

  “Damnation, Lord Stonehurst,” Farthingdale said. “This has gone far enough. Be done with it and let him go. You are choking him.”

  “That is my intention,” Camden answered Farthingdale but kept his gaze on Stephenson. “Maybe he’d rather I call him out?”

  “No, no.” Stephenson shook his head, strangling with fear and pain and unable to speak more than a mumble.

  “Dueling is against the law, and you know it,” Farthingdale said.

  “That doesn’t keep it from happening to ill-mannered oafs who try to sabotage the reputations of properly brought up young ladies.”

  Camden moved his face closer to Stephenson’s. “If you have anything to say about Miss Whittingham, say it now. I am the only one who wants to hear it.”

  “He will not say anything else,” Farthingdale offered. “He doesn’t have a death wish. Neither of us do.”

  “Good. So I can assume you will not mention her name again to anyone in public or private?”

  Stephenson nodded, clearly in pain.

  “And should anyone mention her name to you, you will only have very nice, very appropriate things to say, is that not right?”

  Stephenson nodded again.

  “Good. I’m glad we understand each other.”

  Camden turned to Farthingdale. “Do you and I understand each other?”

  Farthingdale swallowed hard. “Yes, my lord.”

  Camden let go of Stephenson and backed away.

  The man grabbed his throat and coughed as he moved away from Camden. Between broken gasps he said, “You… sir, are no gentle… man.”

  “Remember that.”

  “I couldn’t breathe, you bastard. You almost killed me.”

  “I still might. You would do good to remember that as well.”

  “You wouldn’t dare harm me.”

  The man obviously didn’t know when he had gotten off easy. Camden took a step toward him and Stephenson backed up like the scared rabbit he was.

  “Would you like to make a bet on that?” Camden said as coldly as he felt. “Make no mistake, Stephenson, I don’t want to hear another unkind word about Miss Whittingham’s reputation. If this talk about her doesn’t stop immediately, I’ll find you the next time you’re walking past a narrow alley, riding alone in the dark, or so deep in your ale that you can’t see straight. I will come for you and I will get you.”

  “You’re a madman,” he hissed.

  “Then you are a brave man to test me.”

  “You are completely uncivilized.”

  “Some might say that. But make no mistake about this. I will not have you breathing an unkind word about Miss Whittingham again. I will do whatever I must for her. Are we clear on this?”

  “Perfectly,” Farthingdale said. “We’re perfectly clear, aren’t we, Stephenson?”

  Stephenson wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and waited. He looked at Farthingdale, then back to Camden as if trying to decide what he wanted to say, how he wanted to react, and whether he had the courage to take Camden on again.

  At last he said, “Miss Whittingham was a perfect lady when we met, Lord Stonehurst. I shall be happy to tell anyone who asks about her.”

  “Remember that when the poison-pen Society writers speak to you about Miss Whittingham. She is mine, and I will not have her reputation in tatters because of a couple of loose-tongued gabble-grinders.”

  Farthingdale and Stephenson backed away from him a few steps before turning and hurrying away. Camden took a deep breath. What the hell had gotten into him? He hadn’t been this out of control when Hortense had been caught kissing that chap in front of half the ton.

  Camden raked both hands through his hair. He knew the answer. Mirabella was different.

  He felt differently about her. He sensed something was going on with her that she didn’t want him to know about. He now knew she had kissed at least two men, yet she seemed so innocent.

  He simply should be trying to save her reputation and buy himself time to get his money from America. Instead, he was drawn to her, and he didn’t know what he was going to do about it.

  Ten

  Camden felt stiff as he walked with Mirabella and her uncle out the front door of the grand ballroom and down the stone steps to where the drivers waited for their employers’ evening to end. He saw his driver and Mr. Hornbeck’s take off running to fetch their carriages.

  While Camden helped Mirabella put on her satin-lined pelisse, he said to Mr. Hornbeck, “I would like for Mirabella to ride with me. Do you mind following in your carriage?”

  “Yes, I do, my lord. It’s not appropriate. If you want her to ride with you, I shall also so she can be properly chaperoned. My driver can follow us.”

  Camden was not going to let this short, untitled man set the rules tonight. “Nonsense, we are engaged, soon to be married. She should be allowed more freedoms. I believe it’s perfectly acceptable.”

  “No, no. We are not having any of that. Too risky under the circumstances.”

  How much worse did he think her reputation could get!

  “I give my word as a gentleman that Miss Whittingham will not be harmed or compromised by riding in a closed carriage with me tonight.”

  Mr. Hornbeck snorted. “Mirabella has trod the fringes of respectability more than once. Ever
y day I expect her father to call me in and give me a dressing down for not properly watching over her.”

  “I take full responsibility for her, Mr. Hornbeck,” Camden said in a tone that really left no room for argument. “And should her father insist I would marry her within the week.”

  Mr. Hornbeck looked at Mirabella and blew out his breath loudly. “Very well,” he said. “I’ve done all I can do to protect her. I can’t do more. I’m most happy to give her over to your care, Lord Stonehurst. But remember, I’ll be right behind you in my hack.”

  “I expect it.”

  Camden’s hired carriage pulled up. The driver jumped down and opened the door for them. Camden helped Mirabella inside, then turned back to his driver and spoke softly so Mr. Hornbeck wouldn’t overhear, “Take the long way to Miss Whittingham’s home, and take it slowly.”

  Mirabella’s uncle was going to be upset about that, but it would be too late to change course by the time he realized it. Blast it, Camden didn’t really care what the old chap thought. After the disastrous debacle with Stephenson and Farthingdale, he needed to spend some time alone with Mirabella. He needed to know that he wasn’t losing his mind in defending her. Maybe he should have just called Mr. Farthingdale out that night in the garden and been done with it quickly.

  But no, he’d done that last time and had ended up sour with himself over what he’d done. And, afterward, he had realized Hortense hadn’t been worth his honor. The poor man he challenged had been a mere eighteen and scared out of his trousers. He made it to the dueling site, but before it began, he threw down his weapon and ran. Camden was told he left for France that day and, as far as Camden knew, he’d never returned.

  While he’d been abroad, his mother wrote and told him that Hortense had married a knight whose wife had died. He had been left with three small children. Shortly after the ceremony, they moved up to the North Country.

  Camden shook off remnants of the past and climbed in after Mirabella, taking the seat opposite her. The driver shut the door soundly behind them. Seconds later, they started the jostling ride to her house. Faded yellow light from the outside lanterns streamed in through the cloudy windows on each door. The closed coach smelled of worn leather and clippings of evergreen twigs the driver must have thrown inside to freshen the small compartment.

  Mirabella looked flushed. From dancing or something else? Damnation, would he always wonder with her? The gentle rocking of the carriage soothed him. In the dim light, he studied Mirabella as she settled her skirts and wrap about her legs. There was something intimately charging about being alone with her.

  Her lips were full and a delicate shade of pink he found very tempting. Her eyes were wide and luminous, sparkling more than the jewels around her porcelain-looking neck. He liked the way her soft auburn curls fell out from under her ribbon hairpiece and framed her heart-shaped face.

  It was a damnable thing, but he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Maybe he was a madman as Stephenson had suggested. He thought back to his altercation with the bachelors. Why had he bothered terrorizing the hell out of those worked up dandies? Was it simply a jealous binge because Mirabella was his fiancée, or was it more? Was it because he desired her?

  That was why he’d wanted her to ride with him. He wanted to kiss her, make love to her, and make her forget any other man whose lips might have touched hers.

  She is a temptress. A very desirable temptress.

  “I think our first evening together as an engaged couple went very well,” he finally said when he realized he couldn’t continue to watch her and brood without saying anything to her.

  “So do I, my lord. The party was a smashing hit.”

  She smiled at him and Camden felt his chest and his lower body tighten. “Do you really think so?”

  Her gaze swept up and down his face before holding steady on his eyes. “Yes.”

  He chose his words carefully when he asked, “So no one said anything out of the ordinary to you?”

  Her eyebrows rose a little. “Why do you ask? Did someone say something out of line to you?”

  “To me? I was concerned about you.”

  “You needn’t have been,” she answered, keeping her gaze locked on his. “Nothing was said tonight that I couldn’t handle.”

  Camden tensed. “So someone did say something beyond the line. Something happened. What?”

  “Many things happened, sir. I danced until my feet hurt. I ate until there was no room left to breathe. I drank two glasses of champagne and felt dizzy. I met and talked with many nice people.”

  He sighed. “And some not so nice?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You don’t have to. You have cleverly avoided answering my question, Mirabella.”

  “So have you avoided mine.”

  Fighting twinges of guilt, he hesitated, but finally said, “Then I suppose that is the way we want it.”

  “Yes. I believe it is.”

  “So much for the complete honesty we vowed would be between us just a few days ago.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir. I am not being dishonest in what I say. Are you?”

  “Certainly not. But I take it you are not telling me everything that you could tell me about the subject.”

  “I get that same feeling from you.”

  Camden nodded. He certainly didn’t want her knowing how he’d roughed up Stephenson like he was a cheating drunkard in a gentlemen’s card game. But he did want to know who had the gall to corner Mirabella, and he wanted to know what had been said to her. This protectiveness he had for her astonished him, and it confused him. But the fact that he felt it was indisputable.

  Without reason, she reached over and laid her gloved hand upon his. “You look strained, Camden.”

  He was.

  Camden wanted to grasp her hand and close it in his but resisted for fear that if he held her hand, he wouldn’t turn her loose until he had kissed her, too. His breathing came faster. Suddenly it grew warm inside the carriage. His hand tingled where she touched him. Her nearness overwhelmed him and threatened his control over his natural urgings.

  Her eyes never left his. She held him captive with her feminine concern.

  The moment passed and Mirabella slowly removed her hand and leaned back in her seat. “All in all, it was a wonderful evening, my lord,” she said when he continued to watch her again without speaking. “You dance very well.”

  Her voice was soft and alluring. The compliment surprised him. He had no idea why such a little thing made him feel good, warm inside. And, like her, he was happy to change the subject. It was getting too damn hot in the carriage.

  “So do you, Mirabella. I’m happy to know I didn’t forget everything I was taught during the years I spent in America. I did very little dancing while I was there.”

  “It doesn’t show. From all I saw and heard tonight, the ton is happy to have you home.” She looked right into his eyes and said, “I noticed that Miss Milhouse, Miss Clayton and Lady Gwyneth watched every move you made, and the Duchess of Westmorely was standing close to you whispering in your ear on more than one occasion.”

  “She’s a charming lady, difficult to get away from.”

  “No doubt she was extolling the virtues of some new debutante she’s supporting. Perhaps one of the young ladies I mentioned?”

  Camden took note and gave Mirabella a slight grin. “Perhaps.”

  Had Mirabella really noticed all that? He had been bored with all the attention he’d been given by the eligible ladies, and their mamas nudging him at the end of every dance. He had no idea that Mirabella had been so aware of what was happening. He had thought her too busy with all the young beaux after her for a dance.

  “No doubt you were delighted with all the attention you were receiving from so many beautiful ladies tonight.”

  What happened with Farthingdale and Stephenson faded from his mind as calmly as clouds passed over the moon. He was only aware of Mirabella.

 
“Careful, Miss Whittingham. I do believe those could be considered jealous remarks.”

  A slow smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Oh, I think you should take them that way.”

  He returned her smile. “Then I will.”

  “I’m certain you were flirting with Lady Gwyneth at one point this evening.”

  “Certain, are you?”

  Mirabella folded her gloved hands demurely in her silk lap and said, “Very much so. Were you not flirting?”

  “Friends of the family catching up. That’s all.”

  “And what about Miss Milhouse?”

  “What about her?”

  “Really, Camden. She is lovely, but I would think you are too old and too wise to succumb to machinations as simple as a young lady dropping her handkerchief to gain your attention.”

  His brow furrowed into an elaborate, fake frown. “Too wise, yes, but old? You wound me, Mirabella.”

  “Yes, well, only you know whether or not that is true, my lord.”

  She smiled again, and Camden knew why he was captivated by her. She was not only beautiful, she was downright charming. He was beginning to believe that the reason he wanted to continue with this pretend engagement had very little to do with the fact that his money wasn’t yet available to repay her father the dowry and help his family.

  Mirabella enchanted him.

  Camden settled more comfortably on the too small seat and laughed, enjoying their tête-à-tête. “I wouldn’t have been a gentleman had I not stopped and picked up the handkerchief for the clumsy Miss Milhouse.”

  “Clumsy, is she? I’d call her clever. Her tactics worked. You must have talked to her for five minutes before handing back her lace handkerchief.”

  He laughed softly. “Counting the minutes, were you?”

  “Every one. But only because she was so obviously trying to steal you away from me.”

  “You can be assured that I made everyone I met aware my affections for you are true and without reservation. I have no desire to desert you and elope with a young lady making her debut.”

  “And the doubting Duchess of Westmorely?”