Married to the Lord (The Wallflower Brides Book 2)

by Samantha Holt

  Yes, the embarrassment warmed her cheeks, yes she was mightily frustrated at Henry and it made her feel hot and prickly.

  However, most of that warmth came from having sat with Miles at the end of the ball.

  She could have sworn he was going to kiss her. She frowned. Or perhaps she was wrong. If only she understood men a little better, though she had a suspicion one could know everything about the world of men and still find Miles a conundrum. If he really was going to kiss her, did that mean the others were not really a mistake? Did he harbor some feelings for her or was it simply fanciful thinking? Goodness, how many times could someone repeat the same mistake?

  “We have been patient enough with Henry,” her mother continued. “I think it is time your father spoke with Miles again.”

  “No!” Augusta bit down on her lip as her mother’s eyes widened at the veracity of the comment.

  “We must do what is best, Gus Gus.” Her mother shook her head and sank onto the sofa next to her, flattening the cushions so that Augusta ended up leaning into her mother’s ready embrace without leaving her a choice.

  “I just think....that Miles is trying his best. I do not believe it will benefit us to berate him for his brother’s behavior.”

  Her mother swiftly disentangled herself from Augusta and stood, pacing again. “You are right. The last thing we should wish to do is aggravate the man. After all, he is the man in charge of funding his brother. The last thing we wish to do is encourage him to cut your future husband off.”

  “Mother! That is cold.”

  She sighed and gave Augusta a look. “I have tried not to be, believe me.” She gave a soft smile. “We were so happy when Henry proposed. You are so good together and he really is the most affable of men. We knew he’d treat you well and he has the finances to ensure you are looked after when we are gone.”

  “Oh, Mama...”

  “I try not to put this on you but you are clever and I know you are not ignorant to the ways of the world.”

  Augusta nodded. How could a woman ever forget her standing in this world? She had known since she was a young girl—her main duty was to marry and marry well. It was easy for those who were fair and lovely with bright personalities that ensured they garnered attention from more than one suitor. For her, she had always known that once Henry had proposed, that was it—her one chance.

  “If Henry continues this behavior...”

  Augusta set down her embroidery to the side of her. “Mama, I am certain there was good reason for his lack of attendance,” she assured her. “He was most sincere in his apology to me upon his return. Do not fret.”

  Her mother’s shoulders lost their stiff appearance. “I suppose you are right. There must have been good reason and Henry was never the sort to betray his promises.”

  “Precisely,” she said with more confidence than she felt. However, it would not do for her parents to fret over her future nor would it help for them to get involved. Especially when she was feeling as confused as she was. How did one let go of a path that one had been set on for so long? How did one explain that it was for no other reason than that she was developing feelings for a man who might not even want her?

  Oh Lord, who was she kidding? Her feelings were not developed. They were fully flourished, seeping into every inch of her and overtaking her until she could not see sense.

  “I think I might go for a walk,” Augusta said, standing so quickly that it made her head swirl a little and she had to pause.

  Her mother blinked at her. “A walk?”

  “Yes, I could do with the fresh air. I am still a little fatigued after the ball.”

  “You do look a little wan.”

  “See? Some air will do me well.”

  Augusta retrieved her bonnet and a light spencer jacket with ruched shoulders. She escaped quickly, tying her bonnet as she went and drawing in breaths of fresh summer air. Wildflowers lined the edge of the dirt road away from her house, specks of white and purple interlaced with the occasional yellow. She plucked up a purple one, carrying it with her as though it was keeping her company on her walk.

  Though she walked briskly, making her limbs feel warm and her heart pound quickly, none of it could erase the deep, uncertain feeling that lingered in the depths of her stomach. It bunched there, occasionally fluttering up to her chest and throat, making it feel tight.

  She knew what she needed to do but she was not certain she had the courage. If only she were more like Joanna or Chloe...or almost anyone. How she wished she was anyone but her.

  “Augusta.”

  She stilled at the sound of her name being called, her heart giving a flutter for the briefest of moments until she realized Miles rarely called her Augusta and Henry’s tones were not as deep. She twisted on her heel to find him striding toward her. She smiled softly. He did look handsome in his buckskins and cravat. Most women would envy her indeed being alone with him, let alone being engaged to him.

  “I owe you an apology.”

  Yes, you do, she wanted to say but the words dissolved on her tongue. For all her talk of being bolder and trying to learn to flirt better and show him she was not just some shy, quiet wallflower who had sat around waiting for him, she had not changed one jot.

  “Oh, no...” she began.

  Henry held up a hand. “I know I do.” He gestured in the direction of her house. “I was coming to apologize to you and your parents when I saw you walking. I will still accompany you to your house if you do not mind.”

  She exhaled slowly. Really, she wanted more time to walk alone. Being in Henry’s company was confusing. He was so pleasant and handsome and everything a woman should want. She found it hard to think for herself with him around. It seemed every time she had a singular thought, he blew it away like a cloud of smoke with his charming and reasonable words. “Of course,” she finally said, letting her shoulders drop.

  “I had somewhat of an emergency the other night,” he explained as they began their stroll back toward the house.

  “I see.”

  “If I could have been there, I would have, I promise you.” He tugged at his cravat, making Augusta scowl. She could not say she knew him as well as she had always thought but that simple movement was an odd one. If there was anything Henry was not, it was disconcerted.

  “Everyone was there to see you,” she said. “You were certainly missed.”

  And she looked like a fool. She bunched her hands. And she was angry. So, so angry. Really, he deserved a lashing with her tongue.

  “I know. You must forgive me, Augusta.”

  “What was the emergency?”

  “It was of an, ugh, sensitive matter.”

  “Sensitive matter?”

  “But I am here to make amends you see.” He smiled warmly.

  “I see.”

  “You are angry at me?”

  She sighed. Of course she was. What woman would not be? But the words would not come. The lashing she ought to give rose up briefly then vanished under a haze of cowardice. “I thank you for apologizing.”

  “It will not happen again,” he vowed.

  “We shall have to organize something else. Much of society wished to see you.”

  “Of course. Perhaps a dinner at Charlecote shall do the trick.”

  “Perhaps,” she murmured, aware her stomach did a somersault at the thought of being across the table from Miles.

  “Are your parents angry at me?”

  “My mother is a little disconcerted perhaps. She could not understand why you would not be there,” she said, “but I suspect my father did not notice.”

  “I shall grovel at her feet if I must.”

  “I rather think she would be entirely embarrassed if you did such a thing.”

  Henry grinned. “Would you rather I groveled at yours?”

  “Certainly not!”

  “If it is of any comfort to you, I have already had my ears practically boxed by Miles.”

  “Henry, you do not need t
o apologize further.” Especially if it meant him speaking of his brother. His apologies sounded sincere and even if she could not fathom what sort of sensitive matter would keep him away all night or why he could not tell her of it, she would really rather forget the whole matter. It had been too embarrassing and horrible and disconcerting.

  “You really are a wonderful girl,” Henry said. “I’m lucky no one decided to snap you up whilst I was gone.”

  Augusta ignored the slightly patronizing tone and concentrated on keeping her expression neutral. The last thing he needed to know about was her and Miles and their silly kisses. The brothers had always been close and she would never wish to be responsible for ruining their relationship over what had to be just a big mistake.

  Well, two big mistakes.

  Nearly three.

  “Henry,” she began but any thoughts of trying to talk openly with him fled when she spotted a gentleman walking along the country path that met the road just ahead. Although, gentleman was a bit of a stretch. She had not seen Mr. Jenkins since the day Miles had punched him and for that she was grateful. What was he doing here, near her house, she did not know, and nor did she wish to.

  “Perhaps we should just walk...”

  Mr. Jenkins waved a hand in greeting. “Miss Snow.”

  Her stomach sank. Henry would be nothing but polite and she could not think of a reason to ignore him without explaining about the rumors and her silly attempt at trying to get Henry home. Henry introduced himself to Mr. Jenkins and the men briefly conversed but Augusta could feel Mr. Jenkins’s gaze upon her. The flicker behind his eyes felt predatory, as though she were some delicate prey that he wished to put between his teeth and snap the neck of.

  She cast her gaze behind him, focusing on the ancient oak tree that had been there for likely hundreds of years. How she envied that tree with its strong roots and firm trunk. She felt more like a seed, blowing on the wind, her future being dictated by the breath of others. If she had half the strength of that tree, she would stomp her feet, declare that Mr. Jenkins was a scoundrel and that she was indeed still angry with Henry.

  But, no. She had none of it. Instead she forced a polite smile and listened to them discuss her and her marriage to Henry, all the while suffering under Mr. Jenkins’s predatory stare.

  She finally loosened a breath when Mr. Jenkins bid them farewell and she and Henry continued their walk back to the house.

  “Seems a decent chap that Jenkins.”

  “I do not like him one jot,” she muttered.

  “Pardon?”

  Augusta bit down on her bottom lip. “Oh, nothing.”

  Lord, if only she were not such a coward.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Miles glanced at the drinks cabinet in the library. He only kept the damned thing around because the piece of furniture was over one hundred years old and purchased by his grandfather. Now, he was wishing he’d rid himself of the thing as soon as he had inherited his title. Dark, carved mahogany inlaid with ivory and jade tempted him with what lay behind it—whisky, brandy, and several other liquors—kept for visitors and guests—but tempting nonetheless.

  He shook his head to himself. He was losing his wits. Drink rarely tempted him these days and he could indulge the odd one with no problems. However, tonight he just knew if he pulled the cork on one of those bottles, he would drink himself into a stupor—something he had not done in many years.

  With one last glance at the cabinet, he rose from the desk, his chair screeching upon wooden floors. He rubbed a hand across his face and doused the lamps, retrieving a candle to carry through the darkened corridors with him until he reached the main drawing room. From there he could observe the front entrance to the house and watch out for Henry. He shook his head as he stepped into the drawing room and lit several candles from his own, glancing at the clock. His mother had long retreated to bed, unconcerned by Henry’s lack of presence at dinner. He had lots of friends to visit and one could not expect him to wish to spend every hour with his family, she had said.

  Miles pressed his lips together and sank onto the sofa. Henry was indeed popular and no doubt had many friends to catch up with but what their mother did not know, is that many were commenting on the fact that they had barely seen Henry since his return. The fact was, his brother was acting strange indeed. Just yesterday, he had rose early and spent the morning goodness knows where. Given none of his acquaintances were prone to early mornings, Miles could not fathom it.

  Suppressing a yawn, he set the candle to one side. If only he’d have thought to have a pot of coffee but all the servants were in bed and he was not inclined to wake them. Anyway, despite that fact his eyes were heavy and gritty, he would not sleep—not until Henry had returned and told him what the devil was going on. None of this behavior was becoming of a man about to be married and, by God, if Henry was involved in something untoward...

  No, surely not? Henry had always been the good brother. Running off and travelling the world might not be considered the most gentlemanly behavior in a fiancé, but it was nowhere near as torrid as what Miles had ended up involved in. Whatever was going on, he could not bring himself to believe that Henry had been so foolish as to follow in his older brother’s footsteps.

  He jerked awake at the sound of a door shutting, his chin slipping from where it had been propped on his hand. He blinked in the dim light and took a moment to orientate himself. Gone were the images of Augusta that had floated temptingly behind his eyelids. Instead, his brother stepped into the room, scowling when he saw Miles.

  “What the devil are you still doing up?” Henry asked.

  Miles glanced over his brother, noting his incorrectly tied cravat and ruffled hair. “I could ask you the same.”

  Henry lifted a shoulder. “Oh, just visiting with friends.”

  Miles rose to his feet and rubbed the knot that was gathering at the back of his neck. “Were you drinking?”

  “Barely. Now, if you do not mind, I am hideously tired. I should—”

  Miles stepped in front of his brother before he could leave the drawing room.

  “This is not the first time you have returned home in the early hours.”

  Henry lifted a brow. “I did not know you were my keeper, Miles.”

  “Funnily enough, I am. In case you have forgotten, once I inherited the title, that is almost exactly what I became.”

  Henry laughed then frowned. “Good God, you are not jesting.”

  “I have made excuse after excuse for your absence and let you be for too long in the hopes you would return on your own. Now that you are home, you are hardly here and you have been neglecting your fiancée most terribly.” Miles blew out a breath. “Goddamn it, Henry, you should have seen her at the ball...”

  His brother’s expression turned sheepish. “I know, Miles, really I do, and I apologized most heartily to her and we shall set a date very soon. You need not worry. I shall do my duty.”

  “Your duty started as soon as you proposed to her,” he said between clenched teeth. Damn, if he was her fiancé, he’d never let her out of his sight. He’d have her wed in a heartbeat and certainly not out at all hours and neglecting to dance with her and make her the happiest woman on earth.

  Henry glanced him over. “You have changed a lot, Miles. Since when did you begrudge a man a little time before wedding and settling down?”

  “Since you showed that you cannot be trusted,” Miles bit out. “Where have you even been? What is so important that you would continue to neglect your fiancée?” Miles narrowed his gaze at him. “Are you drinking? Gambling? fighting?”

  Henry snorted. “I’m not you, Miles.”

  He took a step back, shaking his head. His brother was not wrong—Henry had never been like him and despite his odd behavior, he would never do the things that he did. It did not mean the jab did not strike true, however. He shoved a hand through his hair. “It has been a long time since I have done any of those things.”

  Henry n
odded. “And do you really think, having seen what you went through, that I would do the same?”

  “Yet you can still offer me no explanation for your whereabouts?”

  “What is this? The Spanish inquisition?” Henry went to move past him. “I’m exhausted and I have a need to find my bed.”

  Miles stepped to the side, blocking his exit. “I know when you are lying to me, Henry. If you are in trouble...”

  “I am in no trouble, Brother. If you believe nothing else, then believe that.” Henry’s shoulders sagged. “Do not fear, I shall do the right thing, just as I promised.”

  Miles searched his brother’s sincere gaze before relenting and stepping back. “If you let Augusta down again....”

  “I can expect a beating?” Henry’s lips quirked.

  “You know I am excellent at delivering them.”

  “Too much practice in your past.”

  Miles closed his eyes briefly. He would never win a fight with his brother when Henry had ended up being far too involved in Miles’s sordid history. “Just cease being a cad. You have not seen the hurt you caused Gus. It is not pleasant to behold, believe me.”

  “Gus?”

  “You know full well that’s been her nickname since childhood,” he said irritably.

  “I do but I did not know you used it.”

  Miles glared at his brother. “Does it matter what I call her? Concern yourself with actually spending time with your fiancée.”

  “I told you, Miles, I have every intention of doing right by her. I just need to...see to some things.”

  Miles folded his arms across his chest. “What things? Surely you have had enough damned years to put things in order.”

  Henry made a frustrated noise. “Last time I looked, you are not our mother. Now, cease making yourself gray and flapping like an old woman.” Henry turned on his heel and strode across the room, pulling open a drawer in the writing desk that faced the south window. Withdrawing a bottle of liquor, he grinned. “I am awake now thanks to you so I shall be taking this to bed.”