Leaving her standing there in the garden, decidedly alone.
For a moment she simply stood there, looking toward the house, listening to the strains of the orchestra that mingled with the flutterings of greenery in the gentle breeze. She did not want to return to the party, though she knew she must. First she needed a moment to collect her thoughts. Just beyond a clump of bushes to her right sat an inviting wrought-iron bench. She would sit for a short spell, clear her head and allow her racing heart to slow. Nodding to herself, she hurried across the lawn, soft and springy beneath her feet. She might as well be barefoot, wearing nothing but straps of fabric on her feet.
Reaching for the bench’s curved arm, she lowered herself to the seat, her gaze on the starry sky above. She inhaled deeply, the air warm and redolent with the surrounding blooms. A beautiful night. So much more lovely out here than inside Everton’s ballroom. ‘Twas good that Colin insisted she follow him out.
Just what was the truth behind Colin and Lady Mandeville’s relationship? She couldn’t believe that they were naught but the friends they claimed to be. There was something far more intimate about the way they looked at each other, the way they touched each other. Nay, it didn’t strike her as sexual, but what other answer was there? And if it were true, why did it seem as though Jane Rosemoor was well aware of it, yet didn’t give it overmuch thought?
She mentally shook away her misgivings. Colin’s relationship with Lady Mandeville was his own business. All that mattered was that Colin upheld his end of the bargain and secured the deed from Lord Hampton, ensuring that the tenants would retain their homes and their livelihood.
“There you are,” came Lord Thomas’s voice, startling her. “Come out to look at the sky, have you?”
In an instant, she decided that simply agreeing with him was the safest course of action. “Aye,” she called out, careful to keep her voice cheery. “‘Tis a lovely night.”
“Is it? I hadn’t noticed.” He reached for her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “Clever girl, wandering out here in hopes I would seek you out.”
The arrogance of the man. She knew she must carefully consider her response. Were she to bristle visibly at his words—administer a severe dressing down, as he so desperately deserved—then he would only applaud her verve, call her “spirited.” Instead, she should appear as dispirited as possible, as dull and lifeless as a statue.
Forcing her mouth to form a smile, she looked up to him appealingly. “Nay, I simply grew bored of the ball. I dinna enjoy such merriment, I’m afraid. Dancing, music...” She waved one hand in dismissal. “Such frivolous distractions.”
“Which activities would you prefer to engage in, then?” His smile was lascivious. Did the man think of nothing save seduction? He was predictable, at best.
“I do like to read verra much,” she murmured. “Astronomy, philosophy, the ancient Greek texts.” She took a deep breath, prepared to play her trump card. “The Good Book.”
He looked sufficiently taken aback, brow knitted, mouth pursed. “The Good Book?”
“Oh, ye know. The Bible. No better way to spend an evening, I always say, than reading a Psalm or two.”
“Don’t tell me you’re a Papist?” For a moment, he looked horrified. Then his mouth curved into a grin.
“For a moment there, I thought you might be serious. Everyone knows the Highland Scots are heathens; I shan’t hold it against you, you know.”
“Heathens?”
“Of course. It’s the lack of education, I’m afraid.”
She bit the inside of her lip so hard she tasted the faint tang of blood. Was he baiting her? Perhaps he was far brighter than she credited.
“Hmm,” she murmured, as if she were carefully considering his words. “Perhaps it ‘tis the lack of education. I dinna ken.”
He stared down at her, his eyes narrowing. “I should take you riding in the park tomorrow. I’m willing to wager you can sit a horse quite well.”
“Oh, I canna ride. Not well, at least,” she lied. She could just as easily ride sidesaddle as ride her mare with no saddle at all. Lord Maclachlan used to say she could ride long before she could walk.
“A stroll in the park, then?”
“I fear I’ve not the constitution for outdoor pursuits, Lord Thomas.”
“Is that so?” He ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed, oiled hair. Instead of mussing it, the gesture only served to make it appear more neat and flawless than before. “I take it you prefer indoor pursuits, then? I’m quite fond of them myself, really. Come here.” Taking her hand in his, he pulled her from the bench to stand before him.
Brenna flinched as he lightly trailed a gloved fingertip across her lower lip.
She wanted to strike the smug smile off his face. But she mustn’t. “Sir, I must ask that ye do not touch me so intimately.” Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion, even to her own ears. Perfect.
“Oh? And why not? You’ve chosen an ideal spot. We’re hidden in shadows; no one can see us. I could kiss you now and no one would know.”
She sighed dramatically. “Ye can if ye must. But I willna enjoy it.”
“Really?” He inched closer to her, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. One hand moved stealthily around her shoulder to clasp her neck, as if he were going to embrace her. Instead, he grasped a handful of her hair in an iron grip, eliciting a sharp gasp from her lips.
“Unhand me, Lord Thomas,” she hissed.
He only tightened his grasp, nearly pulling Brenna off her feet. “You listen to me, you little fool. I know what games you play. I’m well aware whose company you kept out here, so don’t play the role of innocent milkmaid with me. Yes, I watched that amusing tableau unfold. How very sad for you that his little whore came along to drag him away in a jealous pique. No doubt she spread her legs for him as soon as they reached her carriage.”
“Get your filthy hands off me this instant, ye bastard,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Ah, now that’s the Brenna I’ve come to admire. The little spitfire, not the Bible-reading bore.” At last, he released her. Her scalp smarted, but she didn’t dare raise a hand to the spot. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
He advanced on her, one long, aristocratic finger pressed against her breastbone. “You stay away from Colin Rosemoor, do you hear me? I can make the miserable chap’s life a further hell if I take a notion to do so.”
“His ruination was all your doing, wasn’t it?”
“Do you think me such a fool as to answer that question? Suffice it to say that Colin Rosemoor got exactly what he deserved. You needn’t fret over him. Hasn’t he Lucy Mandeville for that? Now listen, and listen well. I’m a man who gets what he wants at all costs, and I want you. I will have you, with or without your consent. You’ve proven to be a worthy prize, indeed.” He dipped his head, his mouth crushing hers with a bruising pressure.
In an instant, she raised one knee, connecting firmly with his groin.
He pulled away with a roar of pain.
“Mark my words, Lord Thomas. If ye ever lay a finger on me again, ye’ll be joining ranks with the castrati.”
His face still contorted with pain, he straightened to his full height. Towering over her, his dark eyes stared menacingly into hers. “I will tame you, and I’ll enjoy every last minute of it.”
“Ye might try,” she said, her voice calm and cool, not betraying her agitation, “but ye certainly shan’t succeed. Of that ye can be sure. Good night, Lord Thomas.”
Without sparing him another glance, she turned and walked back toward the house, her head held high, even while her hands trembled violently at her sides.
Perhaps it was time to go home to Glenbroch.
And then she remembered the deal she’d struck with Colin. Nay, she couldn’t go just yet. First things first. But soon, once Hampton’s lands were secured, she could go home for good. She’d had altogether enough of London.
And more than enough of Eng
lish gentlemen.
Chapter 11
“Oh, Colin,” Jane fretted, moving to perch on the curved arm of the sofa. “How could you be so foolish? Why would you do such a thing as that?”
“No one was the wiser. I have no idea why you felt the need to send Lucy there to fetch me away.” He leaned against the window, the noon sun warming his back.
“Don’t you think your state of affairs is bad enough as it is? Why risk discovery? What could you possibly have hoped to gain by going to the masquerade, uninvited?”
“I find your sisterly concern touching, Jane. Truly I do. But as much as it pains me to say it, it’s really none of your concern.”
Jane’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Lucy says she found you entertaining Lady Brenna in the rose garden. Perhaps you will be so kind as to tell me what you’re about. Lady Brenna is, after all, my friend.”
Colin moved away from the window, striding across the room to the bookshelves that lined one wall, reaching all the way up to the moldings. “Surely you aren’t suggesting I was compromising the girl? In full sight of more than a dozen of Everton’s guests?”
“I was insinuating no such thing, Colin,” she said with a scowl. She let out her breath in a most unbecoming huff. “Must you always be so obtuse?”
“Me, obtuse?” He pulled a thin volume of poetry from the shelf and idly thumbed through the pages. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Anyway, Colin, Mama tells me that you’ve been warned away from Lady Brenna by Lord Danville. Can this be true?”
Warmth climbed up his neck, heating his face. He kept his gaze on the book in his hands, refusing to meet Jane’s questioning stare. “I told no one but Lucy, and I can’t for the life of me figure out how this information came to be passed around so casually.”
“Don’t be cross. We’re only trying to help you, you know.”
“I don’t need your help,” he snapped, turning back to face her. Immediately he regretted his harsh words. “You must excuse me, Jane. I’ve been a bit short-tempered of late.” He set the book down on the nearest shelf and crossed back to the window.
“You have every right to be short-tempered but no right to such secrecy. I hear what they are saying about you, and I know it cannot be true. At least, it can’t all be true,” she added wryly. “Anyway, I digress.” She rose gracefully and came to stand before him, reaching up to readjust his cravat. “Lady Brenna,” she said, her sapphire-blue gaze meeting his. “Have you formed an attachment?”
He shook his head. “No, but if it will satisfy your curiosity, I will tell you why I went to Everton’s masquerade. I needed to speak with Brenna, nothing more. I’ve come to learn that Hugh Ballard was somehow involved in planting that card in my pocket. He’s in collusion with Sinclair. Brenna is Ballard’s sister. I wanted to ask her help in discovering the truth, nothing more.”
Jane planted her fists on her hips. “You asked Brenna to spy on her own brother?”
“Don’t make it sound so nefarious. Besides, she agreed.”
“I don’t believe it. Why would she agree?”
“Suffice it to say she has her reasons. She and I struck a bargain, and if she wishes to divulge the terms of our bargain to you, then that’s her affair.”
“Then you haven’t formed an attachment?”
“And what if I have? What good will come of it?”
Jane’s mouth curved into a smile. “No good at all if you continue to court trouble, lurking about balls you aren’t invited to.”
“I say, how else do you suggest I gain an audience with the woman? Shall I take my cue from Lucy and sneak in through Brenna’s bedchamber window in the dead of night?”
“No,” Jane said, her voice rising. “I suggest no such thing. That situation called for desperate measures. This...this is altogether different. Perhaps we can figure out something far less drastic. Hmmm,” she murmured, tapping a finger to her cheek. “I suppose it’s all pointless, anyway, if you cannot restore your honor. Lord Danville will never accept your suit at present.”
“Accept my suit? Who said anything about marriage?”
Jane brow knitted into a frown. “Surely you want to marry her?”
“I think this conversation has gone far enough, Jane. Cease and desist your efforts at once, will you?”
“Are you certain? I could likely arrange some clandestine meetings, you know. Some secret assignations.”
“And have you stopped to consider your friend’s reputation? She’s having a hard enough time as it is finding acceptance within the ton. Do you truly think you do her any service, encouraging her to risk her reputation with a man like me?”
“Oh, posh.” Jane waved away his protest with a flick of one slender wrist. “A man like you? Not so very long ago you were considered a fine catch. A gamester, perhaps, but nothing worse than that. If you would let Mandeville—”
“Enough, Jane. I do not need your assistance, nor do I need Mandeville’s. This discourse is done. Don’t you have some pressing shopping to attend to? Important needlework? Anything?”
“Very well, Colin.” She sighed dramatically, tucking an errant chestnut lock behind one ear. “I’ll leave you to your solitude. But might I remind you, next time you plan to steal into a masquerade ball pretending to be someone else, you should not leave your costume lying about your front hall for anyone to see.”
“Point taken, dear sister.” He couldn’t help but smile. Jane was a gem, no doubt about it. He wouldn’t even bother to ask what she had been doing sneaking about his front hall while he was out.
“But a matador, Colin?” She retrieved her reticule and strode to the doorway, where she turned to face him with a grin. “I would give anything to have seen you in those satin knee-breeches.”
“I wasn’t at leisure to be choosy. Besides, I think those breeches were quite flattering.”
“Of course they were,” Jane replied, her face all seriousness.
Her peals of laughter could still be heard, even after the door swung shut behind her.
***
Hearing the front door slam shut, Brenna ventured down the stairs, pausing at the landing to look about.
“Oh, there you are, Margaret.” Her father appeared in the front hall, startling her.
“Was that Lord Thomas Sinclair?” she asked, frowning.
“Indeed it was. Fine young man. I’ve some capital news, daughter. Come, let us sit in my study, and I’ll tell you before we must leave for Lady Welbourne’s musicale.”
Her stomach lurched. No news involving Lord Thomas was good news. He’d come to dine with them the past two nights, and it was all she could do to be civil in the man’s presence. When would this end? Perhaps she should be more direct and tell Lord Danville frankly that she no longer wished to receive Lord Thomas’s calls. On the other hand, his calls did provide her the opportunity to eavesdrop on his conversations with Hugh. She’d yet to glean any useful information for Colin, but, given time, she might. Nay, for now she must allow his calls, unpleasant though they were.
Her feet felt leaden, slowed by trepidation as she followed Lord Danville to his mahogany-paneled study. She took the seat he motioned to, directly across from his massive desk, and waited for him to speak.
“Well now. You’ve done quite well, daughter. Quite well, indeed. Your mother will be pleased.”
“I...I dinna ken what you mean, Lord Danville,” she stammered, her unease increasing by the second.
He placed his spectacles upon his nose and shuffled the papers atop his blotter. Plucking one page from the pile, he held it aloft, smiling warmly. “A marriage agreement.”
She shook her head. Her mouth felt dry, her palms damp. “I still dinna understand.”
“No need to be shy, Margaret. Your feelings are known; your young man has told me everything. And soon you shall become Lady Thomas Sinclair, with a duke for a father-in-law. Well, what say you to that?”
Her heart skipped a beat, and she rose on unsteady legs. �
�Nay, it canna be true.”
“I assure you I speak the truth. Here, see for yourself.” He laid the page down on the desk before her.
Her eyes scanned the page, her mind scrabbling to grasp the implications of the document. It was true. Lord Danville had sold her, like a lamb to slaughter. And for an enormous sum, if the amount named as her dowry was to be believed. She looked up at Lord Danville with newly suspicious eyes. “How could ye do this? Without my consent?”
He drummed his fingers against the desktop. “Lord Thomas tells me he has your consent.”
“Nay, he has no such thing. I’d never have agreed to such a thing. Never.” Her voice rose a pitch.
“Hmm, well.” A frown creased his brow. “No matter. The paper is signed, and I’ve given my blessing. It’s a fine match, Margaret. You’ll likely do no better.”
“No better than a lying scoundrel? A violent man, a deceitful man? Havena I made my dislike of him—my thorough disgust—evident these past few days? I thought ye, of all people, could see that.” Tears burned behind her eyelids, threatening to fall. She took several deep, gulping breaths, refusing to give in to such weakness.
“Nothing but maidenly shyness, your mother says. Come now, Margaret. This is the way these things are done.”
“Then they are badly done, sir. ‘Tis disgraceful.”
He removed his spectacles and eyed her sharply. “I am baffled, Margaret. Most daughters would be delighted with such a match, made so hastily.”
“I am not most daughters. I neither want nor need a husband, particularly one of Lord Thomas’s character. Ye must see that.”
“No, I’m afraid I do not. I see only a defiant daughter standing before me. One who would suggest I do not honor a contract made in good faith, a contract that would prove most beneficial to her family in terms of connections.”
Brenna straightened her spine, meeting her father’s gaze with her own steady one. “I will not marry him.”
Undressed (Undone by Love) Page 12