Never a Bride

by Amelia Grey

  She nodded, knowing that no man liked for his weaknesses to show.

  “So tell me, what do you think about Viscount Stonehurst?”

  Oh, Papa, he is remarkable, dreamy and desirable.

  “He is a nice gentleman,” she offered instead of what was on her mind.

  “That I assumed, given he’s titled and that he’s well educated. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  He’s divinely handsome, enchanting, and seductive.

  “Let me think.”

  “You have to think about his attributes? Surely you must have noticed something right away.”

  “Well, we’ve spent so little time together.” She sank her teeth into her bottom lip for a moment and drew her eyebrows together as if studying hard over the question. “He is also charming.”

  “Botheration, you do try my patience, girl. I expected that, too. What else do you have to say about him?”

  He’s the best kisser in all of London, and that I’m certain of, having kissed several other gentlemen in Town.

  “Oh, Papa, I don’t know what you want me to say.” She patted his knee and rose. “He’s a man. Isn’t that enough?”

  “Good heavens, no.”

  Mirabella couldn’t tell her father what she really felt about Camden. That would be scandalous. She looked down at him and said, “I guess the best way to say it is that he is acceptable. No, more than acceptable. He’s a gentleman I think I could be contented to spend the rest of my life with.”

  If only there was a chance for us. I believe I could make him happy.

  “Now, that is what I was waiting to hear. I expect a gentleman of his breeding to be honorable, charming, and nice. I’m glad to hear you think you can be content with him. Believe it or not, Mirabella, your satisfaction is important to me. That’s one of the reasons I wanted you to have a husband who wasn’t twenty years older than you.”

  For her father’s sake, she wanted this liaison she had concocted with Camden to succeed so that her father would never have to know what she had done to avenge Sarah’s death. “You did well, Papa.”

  “Be that as it may. I do want to see the viscount and make my own judgment of him since so much time has passed.” Her father chuckled and shook his head once. “I approve of his method of meeting you.”

  “Yes, I remember. I thought it something only an unmannerly scoundrel would do.”

  “It was devilishly clever.”

  “It was perverse,” she insisted, remembering how mortified she’d been in the garden that night with Mr. Farthingdale while Camden and her uncle both stared at her as if she were a soiled lady of the evening. She considered herself lucky that Camden ever spoke to her again.

  “It was sagacious.”

  “Yes, if he hadn’t approved of me, he would have gone back to America and we would have never been the wiser about his return.”

  “How could any man not approve of you, dear child? Besides, you would have delighted in doing the same thing to him I’m sure, had it been possible. Now stand over there and turn around. I want to have a look at you.”

  Mirabella twirled for her father in her light pink gown. Each flounce on her skirt was edged with a delicate white lace. A wide, white satin ribbon banded the high waist and cuffs on the sleeves of her pelisse. Her parasol and matching broad brimmed, feather-and-ribbon bonnet lay on the sofa ready to be put on.

  “I plan to send a letter to your aunt Helen tomorrow asking that she return immediately to help you prepare for your wedding.”

  “She is still in mourning. I don’t think we should disturb her right now. There isn’t any reason to hurry her.”

  “I couldn’t hurry Helen if I put a pair of prize-winning Thoroughbreds underneath her. No doubt it will take her weeks just to get her trunks packed and on the coach.”

  “But really, Papa, Lord Stonehurst and I don’t plan to marry before next spring.”

  “Spring? Good heavens! That’s a year away. I could be dead by then. I won’t hear of it taking that long, Mirabella. You should have been wed three years ago. If you insist on a big wedding with all the pomp and fluff, I’m willing, but I must insist that it be before next spring.”

  “Papa, I need time to get to know him.”

  “Nonsense. You’ve already said he was acceptable. That’s all I needed to hear. Don’t put a line of worry in your face about this. I’ll handle it with Lord Stonehurst.”

  Mirabella had no idea that her father would use her words against her. She picked up her bonnet and dusted a piece of lint off the ribbon. There was no way Camden would agree to hurrying up plans for a wedding they didn’t plan to hold. And already her father was showing signs of recovery. She would talk to Camden and they would have to come up with a reason they couldn’t marry before next year.

  “I think I heard a knock at the door.” Bertram looked at the brass clock on the mantel. “That must be him, and he’s right on time. Another fine attribute to add to charming, nice and acceptable.”

  Mirabella walked over to stand beside her father’s chair. Excitement welled within her at the prospect of spending the afternoon in an open rig with Camden, riding in Hyde Park. She had seen lovers make their trace around the park through the years but, of course, had never experienced the pleasure firsthand.

  She knew all the reasons she shouldn’t allow herself to indulge in the sweet sensations being escorted by him would bring, but if the faster beat of her pulse was any indication, she was looking forward to being Camden’s fiancée for however much time they had.

  “Mr. Whittingham,” Newton said from the doorway. “Viscount Stonehurst here to see you and Miss Whittingham.”

  Newton couldn’t have been any stiffer if he tried. He was tall and thin with closely trimmed mustache and beard. He had been with her father as long as Mirabella could remember. She seldom saw him smile and often wondered how a man with such a dour disposition could be happy. He was the complete opposite of her maid, Lily, who constantly hummed gaily. Even when Lily was awakened in the predawn hours to help Mirabella undress after a night of parties, Lily was always cheerful and pleasant.

  Her father rose. “Show him in.”

  Camden came through the doorway into the parlor. The masculine boldness with which he took every step was hard to miss. Mirabella’s breath caught in her throat. Her pulse thudded crazily. He was masterfully dressed in a fashionably dark gray suit with a white shirt and a blue silk waistcoat that was fastened with monogrammed buttons. His neckcloth was wrapped high on his neck, and the sash of the bow lay perfectly on each side of the center.

  He stopped just inside the room. His gaze skimmed over her father and immediately found Mirabella. He walked straight to her and held out a bouquet of tulips almost the same pink color as her dress.

  “Good afternoon, Mirabella. These are for you.”

  She curtsied. “Good afternoon, my lord.” She smiled up at him, and he returned the smile. “They are lovely and fragrant. Thank you.” She plucked one of the blooms from the bouquet and handed the rest of them to Newton. “Would you please put these in water for me and have Lily take them up to my room?”

  “Yes, Miss Bella,” Newton said and turned away.

  Mirabella listened while her father and Camden exchanged greetings and pleasantries.

  A smile came to her father’s face when Camden presented him with a bottle of fine brandy and said, “My apologies, sir, for being late to claim my bride.”

  “I’m glad you finally saw fit to return to London, Lord Stonehurst. We’ll let the past stay buried where it is and consider only the future. I assume, Lord Stonehurst, that whatever took you to America has been settled, and you are now ready to forsake those things and take your responsibilities to my daughter seriously.”

  “That is correct, sir.” Camden glanced at Mirabella before adding, “I’m happy to present her to my family, my friends and the ton as my bride-to-be.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Suddenly it was difficult
for Mirabella to keep the smile on her face. A wistful feeling settled over her as she looked at Camden and her father standing together. She supposed, at times like these, it was natural for her to wish things were different.

  For Sarah there had been no hope of setting things right. Drinking a bottle of laudanum and going to sleep was the only way out Sarah could see. Now there was a dandy strolling the balls and parties who had seduced her and then left her on her own. He needed to be punished and Mirabella was the only one who could do it.

  “Isn’t that right, Mirabella?”

  “I’m sorry, Papa. What did you say?”

  “I was telling Lord Stonehurst that you write beautiful poetry.”

  Mirabella felt the color rise to her cheeks and neck. “Oh, well, I only dabble in it from time to time. I’m not devoted to it as some people are. You know that, Papa.”

  “Yes, but you would be excellent at it if you gave it more of your time.”

  “It takes courage, which I’m certain you have, to even attempt to create beauty with words. I’d enjoy reading some of your verses,” Camden said.

  His comment and the way he looked at her with his dark eyes sent her pulse dancing with excitement, but she said, “I fear I’m not as courageous as you think, my lord.”

  “I don’t believe that for a moment. I think you are also resourceful and intelligent.”

  “I’ve tried to talk her into having some of the poems published, but she won’t hear of it.”

  Mirabella smiled at her father, thankful he chose that moment to join the conversation. Another word of praise from Camden, and Mirabella would be ready to rush into his arms right there in front of her father.

  She turned back to Camden and said, “I’m afraid it’s the kind of poetry that only a father could love.” She picked up her bonnet and stuck the stem of the tulip beneath the hatband and pulled it through until only the bloom of the flower showed on the band. “Now, if you two will excuse me, I’ll go put on my bonnet, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

  ***

  The sky was an unusually light shade of blue. Streaks of cloud-filtered sunlight glinted off Mirabella’s face even though she had her parasol open. It was a warm, lovely day. The smell of horse mingled with the scent of blooming primrose and flowering shrubs. The sounds of conversations and laughter mingled with the creaks of carriage wheels and horses’ hooves clopping along the soft ground.

  “It’s a perfect, perfect afternoon for an open carriage ride in the park,” Mirabella said as the two bays plodded along in the tight line of fancy carriages making the rounds.

  Camden suddenly pulled the ribbons tight when the red-painted gig in front of them stopped without warning. Mirabella braced herself with her feet to keep from being thrown forward. The horses protested with snorts and jerking, but Camden held them in check.

  “It would be if not for the traffic. Half the population of London must be in the park today and most of them in rigs. I don’t remember it being this crowded years ago.”

  The throngs of people, carriages and horses didn’t bother Mirabella. She loved the hustle and bustle of all the people milling around the park dressed in their fashionable, late-spring clothing. Walking the streets of London and looking in all the shops, listening to all the sounds was one of her favorite things to do.

  Mirabella and Camden waved and smiled at acquaintances as he drove the two-wheeled curricle around the park, but she could tell that Camden didn’t have his heart in what they were doing. She had seen his mood shift when the Earl of Glenbrighton and Countess Irene had passed them and waved without any true friendliness in their manner. Mirabella feared news of her indiscretions were becoming widely known. She could only hope Camden’s close friends would forgive him and welcome him back into their circle once he had broken his engagement to her.

  “If the heavy traffic is disturbing you, perhaps we should park and walk for a little while,” Mirabella said.

  “No. If we take a stroll, we will be obliged to stop and talk to those we know.”

  “And you don’t want to do that?”

  “I was more concerned about you not wanting to talk to those we might meet. I know something happened last night, even though you wouldn’t tell me what was said. But we can stop, if you prefer.”

  How could she tell him that the wife of one of his childhood chums was prevented from talking to her? “No, no. You are quite right, and this is fine with me. This is actually better. We have to handle enough conversation at the parties and balls. No need to add to it here on such a lovely afternoon.”

  And too, she had him all to herself and didn’t have to share his attention with anyone but the excitable horses.

  They were both quiet for a few moments before she asked, “Do you really think attending the parties and riding in the park is going to help silence the talk that has started about me?”

  He glanced over at her, but only for a second. The carriages were so close together he had to struggle to keep the horses from getting skittish. “Let us hope it works. That’s one of the reasons we are doing this.”

  “How could I forget?”

  “What we are doing benefits my family as well,” he added. “I felt it was a good sign when there wasn’t very much written about us in the Society columns this morning other than we attended our first ball together.”

  “And, obviously, I’m not the only one who noticed the time you spent with Lady Gwyneth.”

  “Not of my own choosing, I assure you. She was at my elbow every time I turned around.”

  “You were worried there might have been something about you?”

  “Could have been.”

  “Other than mention of our attendance last evening and your return to London last week, there’s not been a hint of real scandal. Sometimes it takes a few days for the gossip to make it to the columns. What happened last night that you didn’t tell me?”

  “Nothing that I intend to tell you. Was there anything you wanted to tell me?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “I suspected as much, but something tells me we will both be watching the papers.”

  He was as closemouthed as she. Mirabella wondered what could have happened. Mr. Farthingdale was present last night, but so were at least three other gentlemen she had kissed. Merciful heavens. What if they had all told Camden they had kissed her? The number of gentlemen she had kissed was important to him. Almost anything could have happened.

  “I suppose I should tell you that my father plans to put pressure on you to make it a fall wedding,” she said, changing the subject. “We’ll have to come up with something to change his mind about that.”

  “He said as much to me when you were putting on your bonnet. We’ve plenty of—Damnation!”

  The carriage jolted. He jerked the ribbons hard and barely stopped the horses in time to keep them from plowing into the gig ahead of them. One bay reared and tried to bolt, but Camden held tight and kept the animal in line.

  “Sorry about my language, Mirabella, but this wretched traffic is unbelievable. Hold on, we’re getting out of here.”

  He turned the horses off of the regular path and started across the grassy lawn at a fast clip. She held on to her bonnet with one hand and the seat arm with the other.

  “Your language is understandable, but what are you doing? You’re not supposed to drive on that part of the— look out!” Mirabella gasped loudly as Camden narrowly missed two strolling couples. One lady lost her parasol and the other swerved into her escort’s shoulder and knocked him to the ground.

  Camden drove the curricle over bumps, around benches and onto the walking path. Several more people had to hurry to get out of his way.

  “Careful. You’re going to run someone down before you get out of the park.”

  “I’ve had enough of this parade,” he said and guided the horses off the footpath and back on to the road leading out of the park. “I’m going to head to the outskirts of town and get away from these bucks who hav
en’t been taught how to properly drive a carriage or handle a pair of horses.”

  Mirabella looked back at the people staring after them. “That should make us hit the Society papers.”

  He looked at her and smiled. “You really think so?”

  She nodded.

  “I can see it now. Lord Stonehurst’s fiancée must have had a bee in her bonnet. The viscount fled the park, nearly trampling more than half a dozen people.”

  Mirabella laughed.

  Camden returned to his driving. She remained quiet and thoughtful. She left Camden free to work their way out of the park and toward the end of Town turning left, then right and left again. She was enjoying watching the people and the carriages decked out in their finest. She didn’t mind the ride through the crowded streets of London. The farther out they went the less traffic they encountered, and soon the busy streets with their noise and smells were left behind for a quieter, peaceful ride.

  Camden slowed the bays and turned to Mirabella and said, “Why don’t you tell me about the young lady named Sarah.”

  “My aunt’s ward, Sarah?” Mirabella hadn’t expected the question. It took her by surprise.

  “If there are no others.” He glanced over at her again, the horses now easier to manage. “I heard Hudson give you condolences last evening when he met you.”

  Mirabella’s throat was suddenly dry. “She was a part of our household for thirteen years. Only two years older than me. We developed a close friendship. We were like sisters in a lot of ways.” Mirabella hesitated. “There’s really not much to tell. She died in her sleep.”

  “I saw in your face last night that you were stunned when Hudson mentioned her. I could tell that her death still saddens you.”

  “Very much so. It was extremely sad and difficult to see someone so young pass on.” How could she tell Camden that Sarah was such a sweet and thoughtful young lady that she would rather take her own life than bring shame to the Whittingham house?