Married to the Lord (The Wallflower Brides Book 2)

Home > Other > Married to the Lord (The Wallflower Brides Book 2) > Page 3
Married to the Lord (The Wallflower Brides Book 2) Page 3

by Samantha Holt


  Joanna nodded. “I understand, but what do you want from us?”

  “I thought perhaps you might be able to help me be… Well, different.”

  Chloe narrowed her gaze. “You keep saying different, but what do you mean by that?”

  “Prettier. More appealing. Not so blasted shy.”

  Chloe made a face. “I am not certain I’m the best person to talk to about this. I have certainly never been accused of being pretty.”

  “But you’re not exactly shy.” Joanna pointed out.

  “I am hardly a beacon of confidence either.”

  Augusta gestured to Joanna. “You are always stylish, Joanna. You understand fashion far better than I do.”

  Joanna fingered her grey skirt. “Goodness, I miss fashion. At least maybe I should be able to indulge my interest in it with you.” She leaned forward. “That is what you want, is it not?”

  Heat tinged her cheeks. “I sound silly, do I not?”

  Joanna shook her head vigorously. “Not at all. I would hope that if I were you in your position, I would do the same.”

  Chloe’s lips tilted. “Well, I do rather like the thought of proving everyone wrong though I am not certain I can help.”

  Augusta opened her mouth to argue the matter then Chloe waved a hand.

  “Nor do I wish to have any charms.” Chloe grinned. “It looks like far too much effort.”

  “So, we shall dress you up and make you fashionable and show all exactly what Henry is missing. They can report back to him about how his fiancée is thriving without him.” Joanna clapped her hands together. “You know, this is just the sort of project that I need.”

  Augusta released a long slow breath. Thank goodness the women didn’t think her foolish. It was a strange favor to ask of someone, she was sure of that. In truth, she hardly knew where to start and at least with Chloe and Joanna’s support she could be…different.

  “Where…where do we start?” Augusta asked.

  Joanna pursed her lips. “I do wish we had more time, but…” Joanna trailed her gaze up and down Augusta. “I may have some gowns that will fit you with a little tweaking.”

  “I did not even think about how we might do this with such short notice.” Augusta nibbled on the end of a finger. “Perhaps this is impossible.”

  Chloe shook her head. “Nothing is impossible,” she declared. “If I can manage to avoid dancing with a single man the entire Season, then you can do this.”

  “Excellent. So it is decided.” Joanna took Augusta’s hand. “We will guide you through this, regardless of what may happen. A few new gowns, a touch of makeup, and I am certain there shall be many men falling over themselves to be in your company.”

  Augusta squeezed Joanna’s fingers, wishing she could feel the same. Her plan might not work and it might very well make her a figure of ridicule. No wallflower had ever managed to transform herself into the darling of society, but now that Chloe and Joanna were aiding her, it did not seem to matter so much. Perhaps if she could just prove something to herself, it would make her feel all the more better about this awful Henry situation.

  “And now is your time to start…” Joanna’s lips curved and she looked over Augusta’s shoulder.

  Augusta twisted and followed her gaze, her heart dropping down to her toes. No. Why did he have to be here?

  Tall, wide-shouldered and walking with a confident gait, Viscount Ashwick was one of those men who commanded attention from everyone when he walked into a room. Even when strolling through fields, she could not keep her gaze from following him. There were few men who made her feel small, but Miles was larger than most men and his dark eyes always made her feel as though he was looking deep into her soul.

  He strode over and greeted all of them. “I am glad you are here, Gus. I was hoping to speak with you.”

  “We can go back to the house if you wish.” She gestured toward home, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in her chest.

  “I wish to speak with you alone. Without your parents watching over us.”

  Her lips parted and she clamped her mouth shut and glanced around. “My father is not at home today but my mother is. You can say whatever it is that needs to be said in front of them. I do not mind.” She lifted her chin. “I am not scared.”

  Mile scowled. “Why would you be scared?”

  “I… I do not know.”

  “May we take a quick walk?”

  She glanced at her friends, and Joanna made a little shooing motion and mouthed ‘be brave’ to her. Nodding, she allowed Miles to lead the way along the edge of the stream, further into the fields.

  “I was surprised to see you by the water,” he said.

  “It is shallow.”

  “You still do not like water then.”

  “No,” she admitted. “Not after…”

  “Yes,” he said tightly.

  When she had been younger, she had been swimming in the lake on the Charlecote estate and her legs had cramped. Unable to swim, she had nearly drowned and had it not been for Miles’s quick actions, she would have died. Now she could only regret her silly behavior that had put her in danger.

  They strolled a little further along and Augusta fought for something to say. Be brave, Joanna had said, but how could she be around Miles? He had always seemed so worldly and wise and, at times, intimidating, even when she was younger.

  “I was hoping to, uh, solve this situation.”

  “Situation?” Her mouth dried. This was it then. This was the moment she found out she was ruined and her family would be heartbroken.

  “With Henry.”

  “I see.”

  “I understand if you are rather tired of waiting for his return.”

  “It has been some time,” she said hesitantly.

  “I hope that you will…” He sighed. “That is…” He paused and turned to face her. “You still wish to marry him?”

  “Oh…of-of course.” The response left her automatically. After all, what else was she to say?

  “Good. Excellent. Well…” Miles rubbed a hand across his jaw. “Then, perhaps I can invite you and your family to dinner. Then we can…discuss things further.”

  “Yes. Naturally. Of course.” She took a breath and forced herself to pause for a moment. “My parents would be delighted.”

  He smiled, the creases appearing around his eyes. “But not you?”

  “That is not what…”

  “I am teasing, Gus.”

  She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the strange warmth that budded inside of her at the use of her childhood nickname. It had been many years since Miles had teased her and she should not like it but it rather reminded her of a time when life was much easier. She was not much looking forward to this dinner party, which she assumed was when he was to let her know Henry was breaking things off, but at least this might give her a chance to prove herself something more than a dull wallflower.

  Chapter Four

  Miles’s gaze slid traitorously toward his guest for at least the hundredth time that night. He regretted he was not hosting a bigger dinner. At least if there were more guests, his attention would not be snared by her so frequently. There was something wildly different about her. He could simply put it down to the jewel-toned gown she wore, seeming to fit just so. But it was more than that.

  Seated between Mr. Simpson and Sir Cadbury, both of whom were charming men with good countenances, Augusta offered sweet smiles and the occasional bashful look. While he suspected his mother had planned it deliberately knowing how shy Augusta could be, whether it was the company of the two men, or something else, she did not seem nearly so shy as he expected.

  He curled his fingers around his fork, letting the metal dig into his palms. Her laughter drifted across the table. He could not help but look again, taking in the slight blush on her cheeks and the way her eyes sparkled. She did not look like a woman waiting.

  Damn it. Henry was going to ruin this girl. He wished his brother would just re
turn and get this blasted marriage over and done with.

  He shifted his attention down the table, toward Augusta’s mother and father. They often dined with his mother but with how busy he was, he rarely attended dinner parties at the Hampshire estate. If her parents were as frustrated as Augusta was, they showed no sign of it. However, the families had been friends for many years and he suspected the Snows did not want to cause a rift between them.

  Another peal of laughter snared his attention. He forced his gaze to the tablecloth, tracing the ornate pattern that was sewn into it with his gaze. He needed to get Augusta alone tonight. He had hoped it would be far easier to do so at a dinner party then at a ball, and her parents would be distracted so there would be no chance of them listening in.

  Of course, he should have just spoken to her at the stables but she had seemed reluctant to stay and converse with him. He did not blame her. It had been at least two years since they had seen each other and, apparently, those years had changed her more than he had realized. This vibrant woman seemed nothing like the quiet girl he had known before his father’s death.

  “So, Lady Ashwick, what news of Henry?” Lord Blyth asked. “I hear he is in the Baltics at present.”

  “Oh yes.” His mother nodded eagerly.

  Miles winced. He could not help but glance toward Augusta, whose gaze drifted to the cutlery upon the table. Of all the topics of conversation, why did Lord Blyth have to talk of his brother? Particularly with their current company. He suspected the elderly Lord was angling for some gossip and, unfortunately, his mother would fall straight for his trick. There was nothing she liked more than to speak of her beloved younger son.

  “He has involved himself quite heavily in some of the charitable work there,” she continued. “He tells me he is finding it quite rewarding.”

  Miles bit back a small snort. Henry was no cad but charitable work had never truly been of interest to him. He half-suspected a woman was the reason for his longer than necessary absence.

  “We shall look forward to his return then he can regale us of his adventures.” Lord Blyth glanced around the table. “You have quite the son there, Lady Ashwick. We are all on edge, waiting for him to grace us with his most excellent presence.”

  Miles ground his teeth together until his jaw hurt. He was well-used to Henry receiving praise—and if he was honest, sometimes Henry deserved it. After all, he had not involved himself in the deep belly of a dark underworld like Miles had in his early years. However, Augusta did not need to be hearing any praise of Henry right now.

  When he looked up, he found Augusta’s gaze upon him. She did not appear any more thrilled by the topic of conversation. Thankfully the conversation turned to more mundane topics as the desserts were served—sugar cookies accompanied by orange cream, baked apple pudding for those who preferred warmer desserts. Rice pudding, ices, and syllabub also made an appearance upon the table. Miles tasted little of it.

  After the cigars and brandy, they rejoined the women in the parlor room. Miles waited until a few more sherries and such had been consumed before approaching Augusta.

  “Might I have a quiet word?” He leaned down, catching the sweet scent of a floral perfume. He straightened swiftly when his traitorous gaze fell upon her cleavage. Clearing his throat, he gestured toward the open doors of the terrace that had been left open to clear air that was thick with cigar smoke and the lingering heat from the day.

  Biting down on her bottom lip, Augusta nodded and rose from her seat. Her parents were too involved in conversation to notice their departure and, if his mother saw, she would say nothing.

  The moon was full and bright, reflecting off the lake and rendering the tips of the trees around the estate a milky white, as though they were covered in snow. He stole a look at Augusta. He could not help but wonder if she still recalled the day that she had nearly drowned at his country estate. Did her stomach still churn with dread whenever she saw a large expanse of water? They had never spoken of the moment but he knew his still did.

  She took an audible breath and turned to face the gardens once they reached the balustrade that dissected the terraced area from the rest of the gardens. Her hand shook and she clasped them together in front of her. Miles found himself fighting the desire to take her hands and squeeze them tight, to remind her that she had no need to be nervous around him, that he knew her better than anyone.

  But did he? He had neglected to spend any time with his brother’s fiancée since their engagement. Naturally, it was because he was far too busy.

  Though the gnawing in his gut told him he was lying to himself. He loathed that Henry and Augusta were engaged. Deep down, he suspected he would also be frustrated even if they were happily married. As much as he would like to blame his brother’s behavior for his discontent, he could not ignore the quick flutter of his heart and heat flowing through his veins now that they were alone.

  He could not deny that he stayed away from her for a reason either.

  Damn it.

  “Whatever it is you have to say, just say it.” Her voice trembled. “I do not mind.”

  He drew in a long breath of cool air, savoring the sweet honeysuckled tinge to it. If he said what was truly on his mind, he would likely frighten her away. Lusting after one’s brother’s fiancée was more scandalous than her sitting around waiting for Henry to finally set a date.

  Miles swallowed hard. He turned his attention to the moon, the bright glow less painful to look at than Augusta. “I have heard talk,” he began.

  “Yes,” she said softly, as though not surprised.

  He pressed his lips together then found the courage to face her. Her eyes were wide in the moonlight, her skin pale. She was a tall woman but slender—on the verge of skinny. It made him want to wrap his arms around her and protect her from anything that might do damage. But the fact was, he could not protect her from the damage that might occur should she attract the wrong attention thanks to her dissatisfaction with his brother. All he wanted for her was to be safe and happy, regardless of what he felt.

  “Gus.” Her eyes widened at his use of her childhood nickname. But he did not feel bad about using it. How much easier it was when they were younger and he could speak to her freely, without fear of convention or society.

  “Gus,” he repeated. “I must caution you about doing anything foolish.”

  Her brows creased. “Foolish? I do not see how I am doing anything foolish.”

  He eyed her. “I do understand that you have been waiting a long time. But Henry will return for you.”

  She pressed her lips together. “Do you truly believe that, Miles?” She turned away and rested her elbows upon the stone balustrade. Lanterns lit around the gardens and the glow from the windows warmed her skin as the moon vanished behind a cloud but it highlighted her frustrated expression.

  Miles curled a hand at his side. There was nothing he wanted more than to provide her with comfort. To tell her he would fix all of this. Drag Henry back by his ear…or even his balls. Better yet, force her to break off the engagement and…well…

  But she loved Henry. She’d always loved Henry. It had been clear to them all from when she was a young girl. If he could give her what she wanted, he would do it, no matter the cost to himself. However, he could not have her damaging her reputation in some misguided attempt at drawing Henry back to her.

  “I do,” he lied. “Why would he not?”

  “I almost do not blame him for staying away.” She peered at her gloved hands, turning them over to stare at her palms. “What can I offer him? He is out in the world, no doubt enjoying himself. If he returns to me—” She peered sideways at him. “I am not the sort of woman who can compete with the world.”

  “I never had you marked as a fool.” He mimicked her posture, bringing his elbows to rest on the stone next to her. A few inches separated them and the scent of flowers teased him with each tiny breath of wind.

  “Well that is comforting, thank you.”


  He chuckled at her vexed tone. “You think because you are quiet and shy, you have nothing to offer a man? Gus, that’s preposterous.” He slid a hand over hers before he considered the action, aligning his palm along hers. His fingers dwarfed hers, hiding the white satin gloves entirely. He slid his fingers between hers and she responded, curling her fingers so the fabric-covered tips entwined with his.

  A silent thrill ripped through him, practically tearing his heart asunder. He should not be doing this. Should not be relishing this. Certainly should not be committing the feeling to memory.

  She was his brother’s fiancée. His brother’s damn fiancée.

  Still, he remained, her hand clasped in his. A contact too intimate for mere friends or almost relatives.

  “I have my doubts. I cannot claim to relish being afflicted with such a temperament that I can never fully express who I am.”

  “Even to m—?” He caught himself. “Uh, even to Henry?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Henry shines brightly indeed. It is hard to appear anything but dull beside him.”

  “Gus,” he said, his voice rough. “You are never dull.”

  Especially out here, with the breeze whispering through her hair, making her curls an impossible temptation to touch. She exhaled and he heard the frustration held within that one breath. She slowly unlooped her fingers from his and turned.

  “I should go back inside. I told myself I would brood no longer.”

  “Gus, wait—” He moved swiftly, taking hold of her wrist, Keeping her captive. Keeping her here. With him. He didn’t even know what he wanted to say, what he could possibly say. Nothing proper to be certain. A riot of wholly improper thoughts raced through his mind followed by the burning temptation on his tongue to tell her how much he admired her, how beautiful, brave, and lovely she was.

  “Miles?”

  One syllable. That was all it took to unravel him. However, instead of spilling out his heart to her, he tugged her into him, finding it easy to draw in the slender woman until her free hand was pressed to his chest. She looked up at him, eyes wide and dark and intriguing. Soft-looking lips parted and a rush of agonizing need coursed through him, sending his very nerve-endings alight.

 

‹ Prev