Emily's lips puckered. "You know very well she followed you around like some duckling waddling after its mother."
Clayton vaguely recalled the girls following him everywhere when he had been home. But Emily had been with Miss Garland every step of the way. He had thought simply, well, it had never occurred to him the little bluestocking with the green eyes adored him.
Though he had believed Miss Garland a perfect candidate for his list, after today's tea-spilling incident, he was definitely having second thoughts. And a nice list of possible brides from Emily would help him considerably. He decided to goad her a bit.
"For your information, I don't think Miss Garland's mother would turn me away. She has been after me for years. Do you know she mentioned marriage last time we met?"
Emily glared at him. "Then by all means marry the mother!"
Clayton laughed. "Ah, very amusing."
Emily crossed her arms over her chest, reminding Clayton of a general he once knew. "If you dare hurt Bree, I will never speak to you again."
"Give me some credit, Em. I am not an unfeeling oaf. I will handle this in the most delicate manner."
Her keen gaze swept over his person. "Hmmmm, very well, I will give you a list of ladies that would suit you."
Clayton tried to act shocked. "You will?"
"Yes. Your blackmail worked. I will have your list by tomorrow."
Chapter Six
"And what say you to the weather, Princess? Do you think it will rain?"
Briana fit rather snugly in a child-size chair in the Stonebridge nursery as she carefully picked up the miniature teapot, pouring air into the nearby cup where Gabrielle was seated.
Gabrielle giggled, bringing the cup to her lips and slurping the tea air. "Papa says it's going to rain, but I want to play outside." She set her elbows on the table and leaned forward, her blue eyes sparkling. "But Fairy Ladies can change the weather."
Briana threw a hand to her chest. During the past few weeks Lord Stonebridge had teased her, calling her the Fairy Lady whenever she had her head in her books. His lordship would say Briana seemed to be in another world.
Maybe she was—just like Gabrielle was today. Of course, Briana knew the earl had not come upon the witty name alone; it had come from dear old Emily, the true teaser in the family.
"But I am not a Fairy Lady, Princess. You must be mistaken."
Gabrielle pointed a white finger at her. "But you are the Fairy Lady! Papa told me! You go ... you go other places!"
Briana's eyebrows rose at the vehemence of the girl's claim. That comment definitely had the earl's imprint.
Briana loved the study of mathematics and could lose herself in the Pythagorean Theorem for hours. She also had a fascination for Egyptian architecture. The pyramids never ceased to amaze her. She understood about going other places easily enough.
She smiled reassuringly. "Well, then, I guess I am the Fairy Lady."
Gabrielle smiled with pride and scooted onto Briana's lap. "I know you are the Fairy Lady." With her tiny finger, she traced the freckles on the bridge of Briana's nose. "You have lots of feckles. Papa said that if I touch a feckle on a Fairy Lady, I can make a wish." A cool finger pressed lightly on Briana's nose, and the little girl squeezed her eyes shut.
Feckles, not freckles? Briana adored this little girl.
"Feckles are magic," Gabrielle whispered, opening her eyes. "Very magic. And I can make a lot of wishes when I touch them."
Two innocent blue eyes stared at Briana. "Do you know what I wished?"
In her mind's eye, Briana could see the earl laughing. But the thought of his love for his daughter touched a chord in her heart that had been numb too long. "Oh, no. Princess, you must not tell me the wish or it won't come true."
"Oh!" Gabrielle slid off Briana's lap and immediately began to set the teacups back on their saucers for another round. "I won't tell. I promise, I won't!"
Briana laughed. "Princesses keep the best secrets."
"And do princesses like tea?"
Briana's head turned at the distinct male voice filling the room. Lord Clayton stood just inside the door, his violet-blue gaze looking more mischievous than ever. His words seemed to hold a certain challenge, and she boldly met his gaze. Had he asked the earl's valet for another pair of breeches? A smile sprang to her lips, for indeed the clothes were a snug fit.
She looked away, suddenly embarrassed. His easy stance emphasized his well-formed muscles and narrow hips, making her all too aware of his powerful presence. This man, with his dark features and compelling eyes, certainly didn't look like an idiot.
Why had she ever uttered that word? Because he goaded me, she thought, feeling her cheeks turn red. And she had to admit, for a few seconds he had acted like an idiot!
Gabrielle ran toward him. "Uncle Clay! I have tea! Do you want some?"
The man's smile filled the room with sunshine as he lifted the little girl into his arms. "Only if it is princess tea."
Gabrielle broke into laughter. She tried to inch higher in his arms. "I have a secret," she said, one eye peeking at Briana.
Lord Clayton's lips quivered. "I keep secrets, too."
Gabrielle's face pinched with thought. "I can tell you," she whispered, "but you can't tell anyone. Ever."
The man's inquisitive gaze shot to Briana and he winked.
Heat flooded Briana's face. Gabrielle was cupping the man's strong jaw with her two petite hands and leaning into his ear. What was the girl telling him?
The man threw back his head and laughed.
Briana bristled, wondering if he meant to be so alluring.
A multitude of conflicting emotions surged through her. Why did he have to like children? Wasn't being handsome enough for him? His kindness along with his imperfections made him more appealing than ever. A handsome bachelor who adored children was a dangerous combination—even though he did act like an idiot from time to time.
She rose from her chair, having no wish to be in such close quarters with the man. Her heart was already leaning in his direction, and she was in no position to give it away for free.
She had gained too much knowledge in the past few years, and as a woman of learning, she had no reason to let her emotions take over now. She couldn't forget Clarice, her father, or Alistair. She wouldn't forget. Ever.
Good grief! What fanciful notions were taking over her brain anyway? The man wanted nothing to do with her. She was only his sister's houseguest, nothing more.
"Miss Garland, you are not leaving?"
Frowning, Lord Clayton let Gabrielle slip to the floor. "Forgive me for my intrusion. I should have announced myself. But my sister asked me to stay for dinner. She is having duck with plum sauce. It is a favorite of mine."
I knew that, Briana wanted to say. You also like raspberry tarts. And you smell of bayberry soap every time I'm near you. Instead, she waved a hand over the table and tried to figure out a way to avoid this man. "We were having a party. But—"
Before she could excuse herself, Gabrielle grabbed hold of her uncle and dragged him into the nursery. "And now we can have a big party! Like Mama has in the drawing room!"
Within seconds the little girl had connected her free hand with Briana's.
Clayton's brows went up as he regarded the situation. "I dearly hope my niece is pouring."
There was a teasing laughter in his expression that gave Briana all the more reason to leave. She didn't mind being laughed at, and she didn't mind a good joke, but this man was playing with her emotions. She didn't like that at all.
"Perhaps the princess would like to be with her uncle ... alone," she said, slipping from Gabrielle's grip.
The girl shook her head, jumping up and down. "No! No! I want a big party! I want Nigel, too! Don't go away!"
She spun toward the door and scampered from the room. "Nigel! We're having a party!"
Lord Clayton shuddered at the sound of Nigel's name. "Confounded creature," he muttered, making his way toward the h
all. He looked over his shoulder as Briana followed him. "You are not leaving our little party, are you?" The challenge was evident in his eyes as he turned around and blocked her way.
She froze. Of course she was leaving! The insufferable man! But she certainly didn't want him to think she was running away from him! Even though that's exactly what she was doing!
"Certainly not," she said calmly, turning toward the window.
She thought she heard him chuckle during the icy stillness that fell between them. As the minutes passed, she couldn't find anything to say to the man, and the awkwardness increased.
She was embarrassed that she had lost her temper earlier, but sometimes Lord Clayton infuriated her. He was nothing at all like Alistair. She picked at the lace on her sleeve. And handsome lords did not willingly join tea parties!
"So, you have magic feckles, do you?"
The seriousness of the man's voice made her grin. She turned toward his towering figure, watching a smile spread across his entire face. Merciful heavens! She was not exactly afraid of him. It was just that he was so undeniably attractive.
"They are called freckles, my lord. Society detests them."
"Ah, I see."
"Yes. Diluted hydrochloric acid does not seem to help. Neither does the lemon juice my mother gives me."
He started to walk toward her. His eyes locked onto her face as if he were inspecting every freckle she had.
She backed up against the small doll cradle. Her heart began to beat double time. What exactly was he trying to do?
"You are not afraid of me, are you, Miss Garland?"
"W—why in the world would I be afraid of you?" He came close enough that she could smell the familiar bayberry soap he had used in his morning bath.
"Because you seem to be avoiding me."
"I—I am not avoiding you." She walked toward the tea table, clanking the dishes about for another round of pretend tea.
He leaned against the wall and stared at her. The intense look on his face was similar to the one he had given her in the drawing room. Well! She was certainly not going to be the one to run away and give credence to his suggestion that she was avoiding him.
Managing a tiny smile, she took a seat at Gabrielle's small table, hoping the girl would arrive soon.
It seemed an eternity before he spoke. "What do you think of marriage, Miss Garland?"
Briana almost fell off her chair. "W-what?"
His forehead seemed to crease with concentration. "Marriage. I was wondering your thoughts on marriage."
Was he mad? It was the last thing she expected from this man. "I don't think this an appropriate conversation, my lord."
"I meant no harm. I was only wondering why you are not married. It seems an innocent question to me."
He might be a lord, but she was not some simpering female he could tease. "And an arrogant one, my lord. For your information, I am not a diamond of the first water, and my dowry is quite small compared to those of most ladies of the ton. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"
"For some ladies of quality, a small dowry would be a disadvantage in the marriage mart, but most females would not let that stop them. Even a bluestocking such as you, Miss Garland."
Briana pressed her lips together. The blood pounded to her brain, and she clenched the teaspoon in her hand. The arrogance of the man!
The smile in his eyes incensed her as he pushed off the wall and strode in the direction of the window seat. Without missing a beat, he began sketching on Gabrielle's easel.
Minutes passed before they spoke again.
"And what do you say of marriage, my lord?" she asked prettily, her blood simmering.
Two violet-blue eyes peered over the easel. "Marriage?"
"Oh, forgive me for asking, my lord. It seems speaking to a bluestocking is not on your list of things to do."
He laughed then, a deep male laugh that resonated in her heart. Here was the boy Briana had known when she was a child. Arrogant, yet amusing. Witty, but charming. Handsome, yet insufferable!
He raised his brows as she walked toward the door. "You are not leaving? What about the tea party?"
Oh, she certainly was leaving!
A bark sounded in the hall, along with the thwack of little feet. Briana frowned.
"I found him!" Gabrielle shouted. "We can have a big party now! And Cook is sending some cake and 'emonade! Here it comes!"
A maid was behind the little girl, bringing in a tray of sweets, along with a small pitcher.
"Lemonade?" Briana asked, wishing it were only she and Gabrielle at the tea party.
"Uh-huh." The girl bounced into the room and pulled at her uncle to sit on one of the tea party chairs. Clayton's long legs hit the table with a thud.
"Too big!" she cried.
Clayton's lips puckered. "Well, Princess, what if I push my legs out straight?"
The little girl clapped her hands and smiled. "Just right!"
"Oh, no!" She frowned. "Only two chairs!"
She put a finger to her chin and looked across the room at Briana. "I know. You can sit on Uncle Clayton's lap!"
Clayton snorted.
"I think not," Briana said firmly.
"But I am the princess!" Gabrielle sat on her chair and stuck out her bottom lip. It was obviously time for the girl's nap.
"Yes, Miss Garland, she is the princess," Clayton said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
The maid had left, and Gabrielle and Lord Clayton were staring at Briana, waiting for her to make the next move.
Wanting to kick Lord Clayton from his chair, Briana knelt beside the little girl and said calmly, "May I pour, Princess? But after one glass, I will have to leave. The king awaits."
Gabrielle giggled. "Nigel wants some 'emonade, too. He likes it!"
The dog barked and brushed Briana's arm at the same time she was picking up the pitcher of lemonade. Her hand slipped and Clayton jumped back. But it was too late. Nigel had pushed Briana aside, sending her off balance, and the lemonade splashed onto Clayton's lap, pitcher and all.
An oath sprang to Clayton's lips as he slipped off his chair and onto the floor. Briana gasped, trying to regain her balance, but to her horror she fell onto Clayton's chest.
Gabrielle stood up and laughed, pointing her little finger at them. "You look silly!"
A steely arm wrapped around Briana's waist. "My dear girl," Lord Clayton said, "remind me never to ask you to pour again."
"Well, well, what have we here?"
The cool, disapproving tone of the earl's voice penetrated Briana's ears.
Gabrielle squealed in delight as her father stepped into the room. "It's a tea party, Papa! But it's not tea! It's 'emonade!"
"That's wonderful, Princess." Taking the girl into his arms, the earl directed his firm gaze toward the couple. "May I have a word with you, Clayton?"
The arm around Briana's waist tightened just as another voice broke into the room.
"What in the world—"
Blushing, Briana looked up to see her godmother's gray eyes taking in the scene. The older lady stood behind the earl, her face a mask of disapproval.
"I can explain," Briana said apologetically.
Lord Clayton let out a groan, and his arm suddenly loosened. He rolled onto his elbow, and in one fluid movement he rose, taking Briana with him. The breath whooshed out of her lungs as she swayed to the side.
Lord Clayton stood behind her, his hands pressing gently against her shoulders to steady her. "Easy."
The gentle whisper jerked at her heart.
"We were having a tea party," Lord Clayton said. "Nothing else."
Gabrielle clung to her father's neck, having no notion of the tension swirling about the nursery. "It was 'emonade, Papa."
Jared patted his daughter's head. "Yes, lemonade. You already told me that, poppet."
A bark interrupted the conversation, turning Gabrielle's head toward her tea table.
"Oh, no! Nigel is eating everything!" the girl
screeched.
The massive brown dog began to slurp at the spilled drink on the floor and sniff the cakes.
Gabrielle kicked her feet, trying to get down. "My 'emonade!" She slipped from her father's arms and chased after the yelping dog, pushing him away from the mess. "Bad doggie!"
"I can explain," Briana said, trying to make her voice heard over the noise. She thought she heard Lord Clayton muttering, calling the dog an infernal beast.
Agatha shook her head and stretched out her hand for Gabrielle. "Come here, dear. We can give Nigel some lemonade in the kitchen."
"But he ruined everything!"
"Now, now, you know it wasn't all Nigel's fault."
Agatha raised a curt brow Clayton's way, then took her leave of the nursery with a crying Gabrielle in tow.
Briana frowned and stared at Clayton, who had made an unusual snorting noise. Was the man actually laughing?
Jared's voice penetrated Briana's thoughts.
"Clayton, if you can tear yourself away from the tea party, I would like to see you in my study as soon as possible."
With those stinging words, the earl turned on his heel and left the room.
Picking up a chair, Clayton watched Miss Garland's face turn as red as her hair. "A rather embarrassing predicament, Miss Garland. But I believe we fared quite well. Again."
Her green eyes flashed, and Clayton almost laughed. It was obvious she was struggling to stay calm.
"You think this all rather amusing, do you?"
"I daresay, it was rather amusing, was it not?" He bent down to pick up the empty pitcher. "However, I fail to see why you are always dumping things on me."
Instead of playing the meek little miss, Miss Garland stiffened. Her hands bunched at her sides, and those berry lips pressed together forming a stubborn line of defense.
Clayton was captivated by the transformation. The lady was a puzzling mix of femininity and brains. How very intriguing.
"You are no gentleman."
Devil take it. She certainly had spirit.
Clayton followed on her heels as she marched toward the door. Surprisingly, he felt a sudden lift to his step.
"I believe it was you who dumped the tea on me earlier, Miss Garland, and if I am not mistaken, it was also you who dumped the 'emonade on me. Or are you losing your memory as well as your balance?" Hmmm, that did it!
The Convenient Bride (The Clearbrooks) Page 7