Never a Bride (2 page)

Just as she turned to head back the way she came, a voice out of the darkness stopped her.

“Miss? Are you all right?”

Mirabella spun and looked up into eyes the color of shiny chestnuts sparkling from a handsome face. She hadn’t heard the man approach. Quickly she looked him over from head to toe to assess whether she was in immediate danger. He was tall and expensively dressed in a gray suit of lightweight wool. His starched neckcloth was simply but expertly tied. His unfashionably long, brown hair was brushed away from his face exposing a broad brow. A well-defined jaw-line accentuated a square chin. She guessed his age to be near thirty.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, when she didn’t answer. “Are you out here alone?”

From all she could gather, it appeared he was a gentleman, not a marauder.

“No. I mean, yes.” Merciful heavens! She was sounding like she had an affliction.

“Which is it?” he asked.

There was an expression of concern on his features. She had never been any good at lying, and obviously tonight was no exception. “That is, I meant to say, I’m alone right now but I won’t be shortly.”
As soon as I can get back to the party.

Mirabella quickly glanced back, but the house was concealed by a tall yew hedge. The street was lighted by moonlight, and there wasn’t a carriage or another person in sight. She was alone—with this persistent stranger. She should have been frightened, but she only felt a shiver of awareness.

His shapely dark eyebrows formed a curious expression. “I see. Are you waiting for someone to join you?”

In the bright moonlight she saw that his face was a golden shade of tan. Sun lines creased the corners of his eyes. His mouth was boldly masculine with full, well-defined lips. He was broadly built with wide shoulders and chest, yet his waist and hips were attractively trim.

Feeling more at ease, she met his gaze comfortably and said, “No. The truth is I was attending a soiree not far from here and decided to get away by myself for a few minutes. I walked farther than I intended and I certainly didn’t expect to meet anyone out here at this hour.”

“I should think not.”

He regarded her a moment longer and nodded his head in understanding, though Mirabella knew he was thinking that no properly brought up young lady should ever wander away from anywhere without a chaperone. And he was right. But being
proper
had become less of a concern for her recently.

Mirabella realized he was carefully looking her over to decide if she was a lady from polite Society or merely a well-dressed lady of the evening. Heat rose up her neck at his blatant appraisal.

She tilted her nose back a fraction. “I assure you, sir, that this is
not
something I do often.”

“In that case, you shouldn’t be left alone without a chaperone.”

She liked the sound of his voice. It was soothing, comforting in its richness of tone and a bit authoritative. There was no doubt he was British and a member of Polite Society, but she detected a faint American flavor to some of his words. She’d seen that same golden brown color to his skin on some of the visiting Americans she’d encountered in London.

“I’ll escort you back to the party,” he said.

She blinked. Although she had been doling out kisses like they were sweets, even she recognized that returning to the Talbots’ party escorted by a stranger was beyond the pale. She’d have to slip back into the formal garden the way she had stolen out of it, and the sooner the better.

“No, I couldn’t let you do that. I arrived here safely and have no doubt I shall return the same. No cause to worry. A short stroll, and I’ll be there.”

She started to turn away, but he touched her upper arm and she stopped. It was only a featherlight brush of his hand, and it didn’t linger, but the contact was enough to send sizzling tingles across her breasts. For reasons she didn’t understand, there was something strangely compelling about him, and somehow she knew she was not in any danger from him.

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I allowed you to walk back to the party alone?”

“A perfectly fine one,” she insisted.

He smiled. “You’re right. I am, which is why I want to make sure you come to no harm. If it will make you more comfortable, I’ll flag the next cab that comes along and have you driven there.”

Drive her there? Then she realized that he couldn’t tell that a party was going on in the house beyond the hedge and gardens. Thank goodness he didn’t know where she had come from. The less he knew about her the better. The last thing she needed was another man talking about her impropriety.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. I will wait here for a carriage. It’s not necessary for you to stay with me.” She made a point of looking up one side of the quiet street and down the other before settling her green gaze on his eyes. “I don’t see danger lurking around the corner, and I’m not afraid.”

He chuckled softly. “I’m sure you’re not. But I’m not going to leave you out here alone.”

Merciful heavens, why did she have to meet such a gentleman now of all times? What was she to do? He was deliberately not taking her word that she didn’t need his help.

“That is kind of you, sir, and I’m most grateful,” she said, forcing a smile while trying to keep her tone calm and level. “But I truly don’t want to keep you from your plans.”

His gaze didn’t leave her face. “I’ve only just returned to London from a long absence, so I don’t have anything for you to intrude upon.”

A vagrant cloud sailed past the moon and white light from the sphere seemed to wrap around them, making her forget that she didn’t know this man, and that she didn’t want to know him. Why was she suddenly having these unsettling, womanly feelings?

“In that case, sir, welcome home,” she whispered.

The sparkle in his eyes darkened and the corners of his mouth tightened just enough for her to see that something was wrong. Conflicting emotions that flashed across his face made her wonder if he was indeed happy to be back in London. And if not, she couldn’t help but wonder why.

“You’ve been in America,” she stated without thinking.

“Yes.” He sounded surprised, and his eyes brightened again. His gaze continued to hold softly on her face.

“Each year we have more and more Americans visiting London, and I’ve become acquainted with some of them. I heard a trace of their accent in your voice. I see their sun in your face.” She lowered her gaze to his hands. “The color of your skin. Not many Englishmen have such a golden hue.”

“You’re very perceptive.”

She tilted her chin a little higher. She was intensely aware of everything about him. From his slow, even breaths to the shine on his boots. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to drink in every detail of this man.

“It’s not a difficult thing to detect when you’ve spent time with Americans,” she offered.

“And you?” His expression took on a thoughtful quality. “It would be my guess that you spend the Season in London and the rest of the year in Kent or some other home, as do most Londoners. Am I right?”

“Yes. We have a home in Kent, but we’ve spent more than the spring and summer at our town house here in London the past couple of years.”

“Why is that? Most people can’t wait to retire to their country estates and begin their house parties.”

Mirabella looked past him to the rows of streetlamps fading in the thickening mist. She could have easily told this stranger they stayed to be near her father’s physician, but she restrained herself from being so intimate with him. It was scandalous that she was talking to him.

Instead she said, “I love London, especially in the winter when the wind has a bite. The commercial district is always so alive with shoppers and businessmen hurrying about their daily duties. The shops are warm and toasty. In the evenings, lamplight glistens off the snow and makes everything so white.”

The last trace of concern left his face. “That tells me you like to take walks and tonight was no unusual occurrence.”

His smile was so genuine, so charming, that she was enchanted. She returned his smile, liking him more with each passing moment. The warmth she saw in his brown eyes and his caring attitude captivated her.

The clop of hooves on cobblestones and clank of carriage wheels caught her attention and forced her to glance away from his gaze. “Here comes a cab. That didn’t take long.”

“No, not long enough,” he said, his voice a rugged breath of sound.

His words brushed over her, and she was foolishly pleased that he felt the same way she did.

The gentleman stepped forward and held up his hand, signaling the two-wheeled carriage. The driver pulled the horse to a stop in front of them.

He turned back for her. Their gazes held for a long moment, as if neither wanted to break away first. Finally he said, “The address?”

His eyes inspired trust. She wanted to give him her address and her name as well. She wanted to add that she could be free for a ride in Hyde Park tomorrow afternoon, but she couldn’t say any of those things to him.

A light breathy feeling fluttered deep in her throat and she softly, reluctantly said, “I can’t tell you that.”

The corners of his wide mouth lifted in an amused smile. Her heart tripped. For the first time in her life she was attracted to a man. That he was handsome had nothing to do with it. She’d been kissed by handsome men and never felt this way. This man was kind, clever and cared about her welfare.

His smile turned into a devilish grin. “Then how am I to give the driver instructions as to how to get you back to the party?”

Heat flamed in her cheeks for the second time. What a besotted ninny she was to think he wanted to know about her and where she lived. For a moment, the warmth of his smile had her believing he was feeling the same wondrous attraction she felt.

“Yes, of course. Number one hundred and three Ferrington Place.”

The gentleman repeated the address for the driver, then opened the door of the cab and turned back to her. “Are you sure you don’t want me to accompany you?”

No, I’m not sure. Come with me.

“Quite.” She hesitated. “Though, if you’d like to give me an address or your name, my father will see to it that the fare is repaid.”

“You wound me. I wouldn’t dream of accepting money for helping a lady in distress.”

He held out his hand palm up. She paused only for a second before she placed her gloved hand in his. She immediately felt warmth as he closed his fingers around hers. Heat shimmied up her arms, across her chest to flood her neck and face. Her pulse tapped erratically in her ears. For one untamed moment, she felt giddy, and that made Mirabella feel wonderful.

She wanted to toss aside caution and ask this gentleman to ride with her. She wanted to step into the carriage and be cocooned with him in the darkness. She wanted to smile at him, laugh with him, and flirt with him. She didn’t want this to be the last time she saw him.

He lightly squeezed her fingers. An exhilarating flame of desire awakened inside her. This was her fourth Season of London’s parties and balls. She’d met gentlemen of all ages, all heights and with many different personalities. This was the first man who made her want to dance under the stars and steal kisses in the moonlight.

She gathered her skirt with her free hand and, with his help, stepped into the carriage. She quickly turned back to face him, but slowly let her fingers slide through his as she said softly, “Thank you. I wish I could repay your kindness.”

A rakish smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “You can.”

An expectant breath caught in her throat. Her heart tripped for the second time. Would he ask for a kiss? No, she couldn’t allow it even if he asked. He was a stranger. But kissing gentlemen was exactly what she’d been doing since she devised the scheme to find the man responsible for Sarah’s death. Why not kiss one more? She longed to feel his lips on hers and erase all the trite intimacies she’d endured this past week.

“Yes,” she managed to say, feeling herself lean forward wanting, needing, already offering her lips.

“Promise me the next time you are at a boring party and want fresh air that you’ll ask someone to escort you properly.”

Her lashes fluttered. A flush surged in her cheeks once again as she drew back from him. She swallowed a shallow breath. “Of course. You can be sure I’ll do that.”

A dancing light played in his eyes and twitched the corners of his desirable mouth. “You look, somehow, disappointed.”

Now he was the one flirting with her, but she didn’t mind. She had always been circumspect when with a gentleman until this year. Now it seemed as if she were casting away all her inhibitions.

Her embarrassment faded and before she could think better of it, she boldly said, “I thought you were going to ask for a kiss as payment for your help.”

His eyes flashed with surprise. “As a gentleman, I couldn’t.” Then his eyes darkened with desire. “But as a man, if I had thought there was any possibility I’d receive one, I would have asked.”

Mirabella smiled, confidence filling her. All week she had been kissing gentlemen for whom she had no feelings whatsoever. Now she was going to kiss a man because she wanted to. She bent down and briefly touched her lips to the side of his mouth, lingering only a moment but long enough to catch the masculine scent of him, capture the taste of him. She heard his breath lodge in his throat. It pleased her that she had surprised him.

He reached for her, but she deftly leaned back into the carriage and escaped his grasp. “Thank you again for your help,” she said softly and pulled the door shut behind her.

***

“She allowed me to kiss her.”

“Truly? I kissed her, too.”

“All I can add is that she is a delicious morsel, and I plan to have a go at walking with her in the garden.”

Camden Thurston Brackley, Viscount Stonehurst, sat back in his chair at Jack’s Tavern. He couldn’t help overhearing the conversation at the next table, but gave it little thought. He had his own kiss on his mind. After walking back to the gentlemen’s club and settling into the first chair he found, he had ordered a brandy.