"Ah, I see."
"Headaches!"
"Yes, headaches will do that." He sat up straighter. Now, this was quite odd. The lady seemed rather annoyed with him.
After a few more minutes of dull conversation, the maid finally came in to clean up the mess, bringing another round of tea. Miss Garland put her hand to the pot. "May I pour?"
Clayton looked up into those stubborn green eyes and felt a rush of pleasure. When had the female become so alluring?
Before he could answer, Nigel gave an obnoxious bark and decided to jump between them. With a horrified yelp from Miss Garland, the teapot flew from her hand toward Clayton's lap.
"Yeooooow!" Clayton shot out of his chair as hot tea splashed across his breeches. He slapped at his thighs, feeling the burning liquid seep into his skin like flaming coals from hell.
Nigel howled while Miss Garland jumped up and down, dabbing a handkerchief to his legs.
"I am fine, madam," he hissed between his teeth. "Quite fine!"
She pulled back, her cheeks turning pink. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to throw it at you."
Clayton backed up, his hands in the air. "Just stay where you are." He was trying desperately not to curse.
Two green eyes went wide. "It's not as if I meant to do it!"
Clayton eyed her suspiciously, his legs still smoldering. "Of course not," he said through a stiff jaw.
Her lips began to tremble. By Jove, he hated tears. "There is no reason to cry."
Her delicate brows narrowed. "I am not crying!"
"Well, where the devil is Emily?"
"You do not have to shout!"
"I am not shouting!" he yelled back.
Nigel barked.
"You are shouting, my lord!"
Clayton bit back another curse as he watched the lady's delicate white hands deposit the teapot back onto the silver tray. The burning on his legs seemed to be subsiding. But her bold retort had surprised him. Again.
His gaze clung to the base of her swanlike neck as she brushed Nigel aside. Then it traveled to the freckles that seemed to dance in the sunlight. Her berry lips were broad and full.
They were indeed kissable, he thought. It wasn't the wine yesterday that had made him think that. His eyes suddenly narrowed. What the devil? Wait a deuced minute. Were her lips moving? Indeed, they were. She seemed to be mumbling to herself. And by Jove, he thought he heard the word "idiot"!
"What did you say?" he asked, rather perturbed.
"Nothing."
She looked up, her spine stiffening. Her lips had turned into a thin line of disobedience. Biddable she was not! What the devil had he been thinking?
His hands clenched at his sides as the scent of vanilla assaulted him. "I believe the word I heard came from either you or Nigel, and since dogs cannot talk, I assume it came from you."
Her tiny chin lifted higher, daring him to say it.
He jerked his jacket tighter to cover the wetness on his breeches, knowing he should leave the matter be, but a little demon of anger rose up inside him, and he refused to back down.
"Miss Garland, I distinctly heard you say 'idiot.'"
Chapter Five
"Clayton, I am so sorry to be late. I—"
Emily stopped at the threshold of the drawing room, her gaze flicking from the spot on Clayton's breeches to Miss Garland's pale face. A frown settled across her brow.
Clayton understood the meaning of that fixed stare, and dashed if he would be taking the fault for this situation. Perhaps he had been a bit detached, but it certainly did not call for tea in his lap!
"I had an accident with the tea," Miss Garland said apologetically, turning to his sister. "Nigel startled me and, well, I jumped. Next thing I knew, the tea was flying into your brother's lap."
A mischievous smile quivered at the corner of Emily's mouth.
Clayton's lips thinned. "I fail to see the amusement in this."
He turned toward Miss Garland. It was obvious the lady was having a rough time holding on to her laughter as well.
Her green eyes twinkled under dark lashes. "Forgive me, my lord. I am such an idiot."
Emily could barely control her laughter as she took another glance at his breeches. "No, you are not an idiot. Is she, Clayton?" his sister added, pretending she had something in the corner of her eye.
Clayton ignored the question. "I will be in search of your husband's valet, dear sister. After I find another pair of breeches, I will meet you in your husband's study."
He gave Miss Garland a curt bow. "Your servant, Miss Garland."
"Oh, Uncle Clay!" came the little voice from behind the door. "You came for my tea party!"
Clayton groaned. It was Gabrielle, Jared's three-year-old daughter, and the blond-headed imp noticed everything. Being quite intelligent, she also had a mouth that knew more words than most girls her age. And yes, he had promised her a tea party the next time he came calling. Hell and thunderation!
"Oh, no!" Big blue eyes locked onto his breeches. "Did you have an ackident?"
"Accident," Emily corrected, pressing her lips tightly together to hide her grin.
Clayton glared at Miss Garland, whose shoulders were beginning to shake. Oh, the lady was quite a fine actress. He should have caught on years ago. It would have been funny if it were not so humiliating.
Gabrielle came across the room and slipped her tiny hand into his. He felt about a foot tall.
The little girl tried to whisper, but her voice penetrated the entire room. "Mama said I have to tell her when that happens." She pointed to his wet spot.
Nigel gave a whine of distress.
Clayton bit down on his tongue. He could only be glad the earl was not home. Jared would have ripped him to ribbons if he had caught him in this embarrassing predicament.
Gabrielle tugged Clayton toward Emily. "Is he in trouble now, Mama? Will he miss my tea party?"
A few feet away, Miss Garland burst forth with laughter and left the room.
"What exactly happened in there?" Emily stood in her husband’s study, perusing a book from the earl's shelves.
Clayton planted his hands to his hips, wanting his sister's full attention. But the devil of it was, Jared's breeches were too blasted uncomfortable. It was deuced hard to act manly when he knew two women had been laughing at him.
As he yanked at the waist, he noticed his sister was thumbing through a book on Egyptian architecture. No doubt the volume was pulled for the red-haired tea-spiller, he thought, watching Emily's lips starting to tremble.
"If you can contain your amusement, I may be able to explain."
Emily glanced over her shoulder, her violet eyes dancing. "I—I am not laughing."
"Dash it, Em. It was all Nigel's fault."
His sister closed the book with a snap. "That dog would never cause any trouble."
Clayton's brows went up. "Really? I have heard differently. As a matter of fact, I have it from a higher authority that good old Nigel trapped you beneath Jared's bed."
Emily's face reddened. "That was a long time ago."
"Before you were married?"
"Nothing happened," she said, her chin set into a stubborn line.
"Point taken. That is exactly what I am trying to say."
Emily placed the book on a nearby end table and crossed her arms over her chest. "You tried nothing with Briana? You weren't so foolish as to ask her to be your bride? Your convenient bride, I might add."
Could his sister read minds now? "What do you take me for?"
"You are known to be an excellent horseman, a superb swordsman, a decent rifleman"—she paused—"and an excellent flirt."
Clayton reddened. "I don't know who you have been talking to, but it isn't true."
Emily shrugged.
"Nothing happened! It was an accident!"
"I believe you."
"Then why are you so short with me?"
Emily's arms fell to her sides. "I'm worried about Briana. Since her sister and father p
assed away, she has not been the same."
A cold ball of guilt began to grow in his stomach as he thought about his conversation with the lady. All he had been thinking about was that deuced will. He clearly had not been listening to her—he had been so wrapped up in his thoughts. Perhaps Miss Garland was correct after all. He was an idiot.
Clayton walked across the room and paged through the book Emily had pulled. "I had forgotten about the drowning incident and what effect it would have on her. But what the devil is wrong with talking about the weather and her mama's headaches?"
Emily's eyes burned into him. "How could you have forgotten about Clarice's death?"
"I didn't forget. I remember reading it in the papers. I hadn't forgotten they had been in mourning the previous year either. A man doesn't forget a thing like that."
"You were thinking about the will and not paying attention to Briana, weren't you? As a gentleman, it was not well done of you. You used to do the same thing when we were children."
He clapped the book closed. "It's not as if I said something terrible!"
Clayton knew he would have to find the lady and apologize. Emily was correct. It was not well done of him.
"Did her sister commit suicide?" he asked bluntly.
The fight seemed to go out of Emily. "Oh, Clay, I don't know. They say she drowned in the Thames, just like you said."
Clayton shook his head. "All females should learn to swim."
"She knew how to swim, Clay. Don't you remember that time at Elbourne? Briana and her sister came out that summer. You were swimming with your friends from school in the nearby lake. I think Lord Kingsdale was with you. Clarice dove under the water and bit your ankle. In the meantime, Briana and I dumped your clothes in the bushes beyond the road."
The mention of Kingsdale brought a frown to Clayton's face. He had parted ways with the man a few years ago when Kingsdale had vehemently begun to oppose many government policies. He had become part of an eccentric group that wanted complete change.
Oh, Clayton knew there were some things that needed to be changed in England, but Kingsdale had been over the top. He was a liar bent on always having things his way, not only in government but with the women he encountered.
Like a spider, he lured females into his web, and once they were in his clutches he struck with a vengeance.
A muscle ticked in Clayton's jaw as he recalled watching the man spin his plans at Vauxhall Gardens so many years ago. It was evening, down a secluded path, and Kingsdale thought he was alone with the lady. But he had not been alone. Clayton had intervened, rescuing an innocent maiden from Kingsdale's hands, making the man furious. Afterward the two men had severed their friendship. Their childhood memories were no longer a reason to forgive and forget.
"Yes, I remember," he said to his sister, inverting his frown. Emily knew Kingsdale enjoyed the study of Egyptian artifacts, but Clayton suspected she didn't know the man's heart was as hard as that of the pharaoh from the story of Moses. In truth, Clayton was glad to no longer have contact with the man.
"We had good enough sense to keep our breeches on, but when I caught up to you, you were sitting innocently next to Father, telling him what a wonderful day you'd had."
"Yes, and Briana was embroidering near the fire. We could hardly contain our laughter."
"I imagine it was your idea," Clayton said, raising a speculative brow.
"No, it just happened. We saw a lady walking along the road with her maid and thought it would be hilarious to leave you and Lord Kingsdale without proper attire. Briana wanted nothing to do with it. But after Clarice bit you, the game was on."
"I admit, it was amusing. But only years later, mind you. Kingsdale was furious."
Clayton did not want to think what the man would have done if he had been alone with the girls. It had taken Clayton years to uncover Kingsdale's unpleasant side.
"It was silly of us girls, but poor Briana didn't swim. We were going to wade in the lake when we found you boys. You never had a chance. And since you had ruined our plans ..."
Clayton frowned. "Clarice was what?"
"She was twelve then. We were about fifteen. You know, I think she was only seventeen when she died."
"She was a silly little chit, but pretty as a princess."
"But she's dead. And poor Briana still feels the pain. I suppose it was like that for me when Papa died."
Clayton strolled about the room, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes, well, I suppose it was." He paused. "You know I care about you, Em, and I do care about the feelings of others, even Miss Garland's. However, sometimes one must be practical. You must know why I made this appointment to see you."
Emily's brows dipped. "Don't say it."
Clayton glanced over his shoulder. "What?"
"Don't ask me to help you find a bride."
"Em, I'm in dire straits here. You're my devoted sister. If not you, then who?"
Emily tilted her head. "You know, I always wondered what happened between you and Lady Serena."
"She married a colonel," he stated in a cool tone.
"Yes, well, I know that. Everybody knows that."
"His rank was higher than mine," he bit out "Anything else?"
"She was a fool."
"Love is for fools."
Emily stiffened.
He shook his head. This deuced will was making him insane. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. You and Jared have a wonderful marriage. It just isn't for me."
"I know what you mean. You want a biddable wife? A woman who will stay in the country while you enjoy the entertainment in Town. You don't want to involve your heart in any way, matter, or form. Tell me I'm wrong."
"Oh, for the love of the king, I'm not asking for much. It would be a marriage of convenience, but I certainly don't want my bride to throw me into debtor's prison after a year of marriage. A husband is responsible for his wife's actions, you know."
She put a hand on her hip. "So you want someone with some brains, but not too many."
"Do you want Gerald to have the money?"
"No."
"Then help me." Clayton stood with feet apart, hands behind his back, waiting patiently for her answer. Surely his sister knew some maidens who would fulfill his requirements.
Her violet eyes darkened. "My mind is blank on the subject."
Clayton's fists clenched. "With or without your help I will find a bride."
"You cannot marry without love, Clay."
"Love is not a requirement. Our parents married without love, and we turned out quite fine indeed."
"Did we?" she said in a pained whisper. "Did we truly, Clay? It wasn't easy knowing that Mama desperately loved Papa and he didn't return that love."
"Hell's bells, Em! What do you want of me? My soul?"
She touched his sleeve. "I want you to marry a lady who loves you. I want you to have what I have now, what Mother has now. What Roderick and Stephen have. It is possible. Clay. Please, don't throw your life away on this castle and Cathaven's money. It isn't worth it."
Clayton shrugged away, picking up one of the earl's alabaster bookends. His parents had loved him. He knew that. But their life together hadn't been easy. After the duke had died, the duchess had fallen in love with a gentleman who adored her. Clayton had never seen his mother happier than she was now.
Emily, Roderick and Stephen had all found their true love. But Clayton had turned his back on love after Serena had left him. Had he loved her? He wasn't sure anymore. But he'd vowed never to go through that again. No one would have part of his heart, love or otherwise. He had been a soldier and he quickly learned that a vulnerability, mental or physical, could get you killed, and it dashed well wasn't going to happen to him.
He set the bookend down. "I lost everything in the tobacco shipment. I have nothing left."
There was a slight pause before Emily spoke. "I can understand how you feel, but you have us. Roderick or Jared could give you some money, even lend—"
&nb
sp; "No! I will not beg!"
"It won't be begging. We're family. You are entitled to your monthly sum."
"Many gentlemen live like that, but I cannot. Yes, that amount may keep me in London. I could gamble, go to Newmarket, even travel a bit But I want control over what I do. Since I lost my fortune, I would become dependent on the family. Roderick would always have a say."
"No, he would never interfere in your life."
There was a loving gentleness in his sister's tone that tore at his heart. He didn't want her sympathy or her pity.
"Oh, yes, he would. Roderick is the head of the family now."
The hope in Emily's eyes faded. She understood all too well the wish to be independent. She had her own skeletons. "I cannot in good faith give you a list of women for your choosing. There are some who would marry you just for the money, and there are some who would marry you as a means to escape their family. Either way, it would be a terrible loss for you, don't you see?"
"No, I don't see. I can make a decent choice. Don't you trust me? "
"I certainly cannot stop you. Most likely I will know the lady of your choosing. I can only wish you well."
"Then you will not condemn me?"
She held his gaze. "No. I love you. Clay. But I want you to have what I have."
He marched toward the door. "I don't want your pity, Em. I want your help."
"What are you thinking?" Emily asked in alarm.
Clayton peered over his shoulder, his lips curving into a wicked smile. "Marcus gave me a short list, but I think I can do better. You refused to help, so I am left to my own devices. I cannot promise you anything."
Emily's eyes widened. "Oh, no, you don't!" She ran to the door and flung her arms wide, blocking him from leaving.
He glanced at her. "What? You think to stop me?"
"Yes. Briana is not for you."
He returned her determined gaze with one of his own. "I think you are wrong."
"Oh, you are despicable! Just because she adored you as a child does not mean she adores you now."
His chest swelled beneath his waistcoat. "She adored me?"
The Convenient Bride (The Clearbrooks) Page 6