Briana swallowed past the large lump in her throat. Many people were convinced Clarice had taken her own life. Briana didn't want to believe it, but the situation had been desperate and Clarice was such an impulsive child.
Her sister's terrible misfortune had been enough to destroy Briana's trust in men. And why should it not? Sir Garland had thrown his daughter out of the house in a fit of rage. The man who had gotten her sister with child had left Clarice to carry the burden alone. And then Briana's own love had abandoned her, only to get himself killed. It wasn't safe to depend on a man at all.
A horse neighed and a gust of warm air filled the carriage as the footman opened the door and let down the stairs. They had arrived at the Elbourne townhouse. Grateful for the interruption, Briana grabbed her reticule to leave.
But to her dismay, Agatha waved her parasol at the footman. "Close the door, James. We will be with you in a minute." The footman nodded and slowly clicked the door back into place.
Briana sank back in her seat. Though Agatha had business in Town and would return in a few hours, the lady was not about to leave Briana until the conversation had some closure.
Briana rubbed her hand across the leather seat. "I think my father's pride was hurt when he discovered Clarice's predicament. I forgave him a long time ago, but I will never forget."
"Well, your papa's dead now, child, and you need a husband. Since your mama is recovering from those devilish headaches, I must take the initiative—"
Briana lifted her chin. Her mother's headaches had gotten worse after Clarice's death. The lady had never forgiven her husband for what he had done. "I am not going to marry."
"But you are out of mourning now. Plenty of gentlemen have been asking about you this Season."
Plenty? There was only Lord Rockham, who was twice her age and widowed with five children. "The mourning period for my sister and father has given me time to think."
"Indeed, it has. I believe wearing black made you realize you could easily disappear into a crowd more than ever before."
Briana felt her color rise. It was true. After returning to her customary clothing for the Season, she found the talent of fading into the background quite useful when one did not want to find a husband. Dull shades worked very well.
"I see no reason for you to be so stubborn about this, Briana. A women's shelter can be supported by other groups."
Briana shook her head. "No. I aim to see that Clarice's death was not in vain. There are too many ladies in trouble, and if I can help one of them, I will."
"My dear girl, you are as stubborn as ever."
"My sister fell into some man's trap, and our father let her down. I have to do something."
Agatha sighed. "But you cannot save the world."
"I can do everything I can to save another woman from such a terrible fate. The shelter will house women who are with child and have no one to care for them. After their babes are born, I intend to find positions for them where they can take their children with them, or if they want, they can give the baby up for adoption. That is the least I can do."
"But a husband can give you the respectability to do such a thing. Don't you see?"
"I don't need a husband. A man left Clarice in her delicate state. My own father let Clarice down. A husband would be a yoke around my neck. He would own everything I had." Including my heart if I let him.
"Not if he loved you—"
"Love? I used to believe in it. Once, when—"
Agatha raised a discriminating brow. "You fell in love with that lieutenant, did you not? It was when I was staying at Hemmingly and you were caring for your mother. I always had a feeling about him."
"I don't want to talk about it."
Briana had missed Agatha during the few years she had been without the older woman's support. She had seen her godmother during the year of mourning, but for three years previous she had been taking care of her mother in Bath, hoping the waters would cure the lady's headaches. That was when she had met Lieutenant Alistair Perry.
"He was supposed to sell out his commission in the spring of 1815, was he not?" The compassion in Agatha's voice touched her.
"Yes." He promised me he would leave his regiment. And I believed him. He said he loved me, but he loved the army more.
"But Napoleon escaped from Elba," Agatha continued, to Briana's dismay, "and your lovely lieutenant was killed."
Briana bit her lip. She didn't want to recall Alistair's death at Waterloo. The pain had eased in time, but her distrust of men was still there and she didn't see it changing in the near future. Alistair was a good man, but he had left her.
Oh, it didn't mean that all men were bad, it just meant that Briana would not make the mistake of putting her heart and soul under a man's power ever again. "I think we have more important things to discuss than the past, Agatha."
"My dear, you cannot let a death stop you from living. Now, what do you think of Lord Clayton? I believe he is a trustworthy gentleman."
Briana's head snapped up, taken completely by surprise.
Good heavens! She certainly didn't want to bring back memories of a schoolgirl crush when she had thought herself in love with the handsome lord and his fine violet-blue eyes. As the years had passed, she realized the man's charm and good looks had swayed her innocent mind. Still, his kindness had touched her, and she had never forgotten how he had taught her to waltz.
"I believe my mother has been speaking to you. Ever since we have been out of mourning, she has been hounding Lord Clayton every chance she gets. Do you know, a few months ago she had him cornered at the Elbourne soirée?"
Briana's cheeks burned as she recalled her mother's hunt for a husband. "I was only two feet away when I heard her ask him about marriage! Two feet, Agatha! I was never more embarrassed in my life."
The man had made a swift retreat to the library and was never seen again the entire evening. It was obvious he had been horrified at the thought of marriage to a boring bluestocking like herself. Briana had not spoken to his lordship since.
Agatha meant well, but at times she wasn't very practical.
The very notion of Briana and Lord Clayton as a couple was ludicrous. The man would never look at her twice. And she was no sixteen-year-old now. Indeed, she had put him out of her mind!
Agatha scoffed. "Had a feeling your mama had been meddling. But this idea of a women's shelter, good though it may be, will only hinder your search for a husband."
Upset, Briana reached for the door of the carriage. "Jane is ready to help me find a facility for my shelter."
Agatha frowned as Briana pulled on the handle. "It's not as if I won't help you, dear. Perhaps we can find a husband for you at Lord Grimstoke's party. You know his daughter, Violet. Maybe she can help."
Knowing it was better to say nothing on the subject of Grimstoke's party, Briana kissed Agatha on the cheek, stepped down from the carriage and blinked into the late afternoon sun.
Agatha waved her parasol in the air. "I might be a bit late, dear. I'm certain Jane won't mind if you stay a little longer."
Briana nodded as she walked up the steps of the duke's townhouse to see the duchess. She understood Agatha's concerns about her finding a husband, but she wasn't about to tell the lady the true reason she was attending Grimstoke's house party.
As Briana stepped into the Elbourne townhouse, her brows puckered with guilt. Before the butler closed the door, she glanced over her shoulder, watching Agatha's carriage clatter down the street in the direction of Whitehall.
Briana's position with Whitehall, and with Agatha in particular, had mostly involved paperwork. But as of yesterday, that had totally changed. Briana was going on assignment.
The opportunity for her to attend a house party where there could be an exchange of information regarding an assassination plot against the Regent was something Whitehall could not ignore. Ever since Prinny had been booed by his very own countrymen on his way to open Parliament, every threat against the Regent
was taken seriously.
Not only that, but Whitehall had informed Briana that Agatha was in charge of the mission.
Briana drew in a ragged breath. In a few minutes the lady would be told that her goddaughter was going undercover as well, and when that happened, heaven help anyone in Agatha's path... and that of the lady's trusty parasol.
Clayton sat on the stone bench in the gardens of Elbourne Hall, tugging at his neckcloth with one hand and holding his list of possible brides in the other. He raised his blurry gaze toward the sunset as his brother's shadow swayed over him. "Miss Hookston ain't on the list. Shouldn't be, anyway."
"The devil with her," Marcus said with the slow drawl of a man who had consumed his share of Roderick's wine cellar. "You have three ladies to choose from, Clay. That should be quite enough."
During the past few hours, the brothers had downed the last two bottles of the duke's favorite French wine, among other things. Clayton had quickly come to the decision that if Roderick could not stay and help choose his future bride, then the duke could dashed well give up his favorite drink.
Clayton flicked a finger over the names. "Miss Cherrie Black, Lady Georgette, and Miss Diana Price." Grinning, he picked up the empty bottle on the ground. "Roderick's brandy is nothing compared to this."
Marcus chuckled. "Depend upon it, the turn of the century was a very good year. But if you would like to have your head attached to your body when you depart the premises, I would suggest you take it upon yourself to dispose of the evidence."
Clayton let the bottle slip to the ground as he returned his gaze to the list of eligible maidens. "She will have to live in the country."
Marcus plopped down beside him. "Because you wish to travel and live in Town during the Season. We have already covered that. All these ladies adore the country."
Clayton's finger stopped on Lady Georgette. "She must like children. Seem to recall this lady ain't fond of them."
The light in Marcus's eyes dimmed. "Then by all means strike the witch off. We don't need someone like her in the family. Wouldn't do well at all."
"But I don't have the pen. You left everything in the library."
"You’re going to need more then pen and ink for this, brother."
The fog in Clayton's brain was beginning to clear. "It don't matter. I forgot to take a copy of the blasted will anyway. Banes mentioned he left one for me."
Marcus put an arm on his brother's shoulder. "You know, Clay, I've been thinking, Grimstoke's house party is not such a bad idea after all."
Clayton rose to his feet, combing a hand through his disheveled hair. He grabbed his jacket lying on the bench. "Been thinking the same thing. The man is a bit stuffy, but he would never dismiss a Clearbrook. Won't be hard to obtain an invitation."
"Stuffy?" Marcus replied in disapproval. "That is an understatement. Grimstoke ruined some lady two summers ago."
Clayton's brows went up. "Ruined her?"
"No, not like that. She was caught on a boat with Lord Hughs. Some innocent outing that went awry because of the weather. Grimstoke claimed the girl was compromised and demanded they marry. Both refused. The girl was shunned from the ton and now lives in America. Blasted shame."
Clayton shrugged into his jacket. "Then I won't be caught on a boat with a lady unless I intend her to be my wife."
"I don't think that's funny, Clay. I think what you're doing is dangerous."
Marcus rose and picked up the empty bottle that Clayton had dropped on the ground. "Even more dangerous is Roderick when he is in one of those moods. He won't be too happy, you know. We had best refill this with something more agreeable than water."
Clayton let out a chuckle as he walked down the garden path, his boots crunching on the gravel. "If that were the least of my problems, I would join you in the refilling process. But duty calls. You can take care of the weighty matter while I pick up my copy of that cursed will. Won't be but a minute."
Stepping into the duke's library, Clayton closed the door behind him and made his way to the desk at the other side of the room. His head was aching like the devil.
And dash it, he didn't like the idea of making a list of potential wives at all. But if he wanted that deuced money, he would have to give in to Uncle Cathaven's demands. A bride of convenience would suit his needs perfectly.
Raising his gaze to the steady ticking of the mantel clock, he scowled when he thought of the lost rendezvous with Miss Hookston. He fixed his eyes on the desk, snatched the will, and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.
"Hell and thunderation," he mumbled. He could be—
At the sound of a light snore, he snapped his head around. Who the devil?
His eyes widened at the sight of auburn curls peeking out from the side of a wing chair near the bookshelves.
A smile worked its way to his lips as he treaded softly toward the hidden intruder. Why, it was Miss Garland, sleeping like a baby with her slippers tucked beneath her bottom and a book in her lap. He tilted his head to scan the title and his eyes widened with respect. Archimedes, the Great Mathematician.
She was called a bluestocking in many circles, but he'd had no idea to the depths of this woman's knowledge until now. Oh, years ago he had conversed with her many times in this very room. They had talked of such things as crop rotation and how many stars were in the sky.
But Archimedes? He laughed to himself. He seemed to recall she enjoyed studying Egyptian history, too. On her visits to Elbourne, she had adored his mother's cat, Egypt, had she not?
He shook his head as another thought came to him. He pursed his lips, pulled out his list, looked at it, then switched his attention back to the sleeping lady. No one on his list possessed any great intellect. At least nothing like Miss Garland's.
And what about his future children? He didn't want them to be a bunch of nitwits, did he?
As quietly as he could, he pulled up a chair and studied the woman. Two delicate white hands slipped from her lap to the side of her face as she cuddled against the arm of the chair. He smiled. That was definitely a snore. She was probably waiting for Jane to return from her shopping excursion with Roderick.
But if Clayton knew the duke, he had made a romantic side trip with his wife. Miss Garland might have a longer wait than she planned.
Another delicate snore. Clayton suppressed the urge to laugh. The lady would be mortified if she knew he was staring at her. Flickering light from a nearby candelabrum fingered upon her head, setting off her locks in fiery red streaks.
She let out a little whimper and Clayton felt an instant tug on his heart. There had always been an innocence about this girl that had attracted him. He vividly recalled the day he had taught her to waltz. She had been a shy little thing, but in the end, she had surprised him when she snapped back with a comment that had both infuriated and charmed him.
However, she was Emily's friend—off-limits to him and anyone like him. He was definitely someone this lady did not need, even though her harassing mother seemed to think otherwise.
Not realizing he was smiling, he observed the spray of freckles about her nose. Society regarded the dots on any female as a sign of ugliness, but to Clayton, Miss Garland's freckles gave her character. She was different from most ladies, in her looks and her manner. She wasn't beautiful, but she was pretty in a fragile sort of way.
He leaned forward and dropped his gaze to her berry lips. The sweet scent of vanilla pulled him closer, and in an unguarded moment he almost kissed the sleeping beauty. Muttering an oath, he quickly rose and pulled at his neckcloth. That deuced wine must have been stronger than he thought.
He kept staring at her lips and rubbed his hands along his face in frustration. He blamed his actions on the castle and the blasted will. Yes, yes, it was Uncle Cathaven and that stupid bridal clause turning his brain upside down. The entire situation had upset his balance.
Narrowing his eyes, he leaned down once again, only to have a peek. He was doing it for his own good, to prove she meant no
thing to him. But before he could stop it from happening, two unfocused emerald eyes blinked back at him in horror. The next moment Archimedes, the Great Mathematician, took to the air and the lady shot up with a scream.
Clayton quickly threw a hand over her mouth and jerked her body against his. "Devil take it, woman. Do you want the entire household to come running to your rescue?"
She seemed slender and fragile beneath his grip, but to his amazement, she tilted her face to meet his and her fine green gaze skewered him like a piece of meat on a spit. Why, the little termagant. "I'm letting you go. Just don't start screaming again." He slowly lifted his hands, but the touch of her lips against his palm sent a tingle of awareness through him.
"What were you doing standing over me like that?" she snapped, a rush of pink tinting her cheeks.
She may be slender, but fragile? He felt the list in his pocket and looked at the lady, his lips twisting into a wry smile. Why should Emily determine if this lady was appropriate for his bride or not? "Why indeed?" he muttered.
Briana stared at Lord Clayton, as if she had never seen the man before. He looked, well, he looked like Lord Rockham when the man wanted to take her for a ride in the park.
This towering lord was certainly not the twenty-year-old she remembered from her summers at Elbourne Hall. He was leaner, tougher, more rugged, if one could say such a thing about such a beautiful man. The war had done that to him, she thought. There was a certain hardness about him now.
"I beg your pardon," she said, a little harsher than she had intended.
He stood there, too devilishly handsome for any man, making her feel like some bird-witted female. Still, she couldn't forget the way he had pulled her into his strong embrace, trying to keep her quiet. He didn't have to place his hand over her mouth to do that.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Garland. I came in for some papers off my brother's desk and heard a snore."
She glared at him. "I do not snore."
The man had the audacity to laugh, but was stopped short when the clatter of feet sounded down the hall.
The Convenient Bride (The Clearbrooks) Page 4