Never a Bride (6 page)

“Yes, yes, she’s here, but we haven’t been here that long. I’m not sure this is the time or place to… er…” His eyes brightened like blue fire as his gaze continued to scan the dance floor. “Maybe a private meeting between the two of you would be better. Or perhaps her father and the earl would like to be in attendance at the momentous occasion.”

“I can’t see any reason to stand on ceremony, Mr. Hornbeck,” Camden replied. “Since we’re both in here, I’d like to meet her.”

Archer Hornbeck was stumbling over his words and wringing his hands like a worried mama. Camden wanted to know why his wanting to meet Miss Whittingham had put her uncle on edge. Had everyone assumed he wouldn’t return to claim his bride?

“Very well, Lord Stonehurst. I can see you won’t be swayed. I will go find her and bring her to you. Shall we meet on the south patio?”

“I’ll wait for you there.”

Mr. Hornbeck turned away and Camden looked to his brother. “Are you coming with me, Hudson?”

“No. That is, if you don’t mind. It’s very close to time for the next dance, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“I understand.” Camden gave his brother a knowing smile. “I’ll catch up with you later in the evening.”

Camden was stopped by two friends and several acquaintances as well as being presented to two debutantes before he was able to break away and make his way to the south patio. His return was fast making its way around the large ballroom. He opened the door that led to the stone patio and walked out. Three couples were there talking quietly. He looked at each of them, hoping to find his mystery lady.

He turned to walk closer to a side door and a flash of something pale in the distance caught his eye. It was a young lady in a white dress wrapped in the arms of a man. His senses heightened. Something about her seemed familiar. Was that the lady he met last night? He had to know.

He strode down the steps of the patio and into the floral-scented garden. He heard Mr. Hornbeck call to him, but Camden kept walking. The couple sat on a garden bench kissing rather awkwardly, the young lady’s hand seeming to caress the man’s neck.

“Mirabella!” Hornbeck called from behind Camden. “What in blue heavens is going on here? By all the saints! What are you doing to her, sir? Unhand her this instant.”

The couple broke apart and both jumped up. The young man’s face was ashen and the young lady’s cheeks flamed red.

Mirabella? Whittingham?

Camden’s heart went cold. This young lady kissing, embraced in the arms of another man, was the enchantress he’d met on the street last night.

She
was the woman who had stirred his blood like no other woman had in years, and she
was his fiancée.

Mirabella was mortified. Light-headed. Angry with herself for getting caught. She should have known her uncle would be keeping a closer eye on her after their discussion last night. This humiliation was her fault.

She should have waited a day or two while her uncle’s suspicions receded, before resuming her search for the man with the scar. But Mr. Farthingdale had been so eager to dance with her, and he was on her list. She couldn’t pass up the opportunity to check for the blemish that marked Sarah’s seducer.

Thank God she had managed to discover Mr. Farthingdale had no scar before her uncle showed up and she could strike one more man off her list.

But what was the dashing gentleman she’d met last night doing standing there with her uncle, looking so very handsome in his formal evening coat? Mirabella never expected to see the stranger again. Her heart fluttered when she glanced at him and that had nothing to do with the fact that she’d been caught in a compromising position.

There was nothing to do but gather her wits and accept the consequences. Whatever they might be.

“Would you please excuse us, Mr. Farthingdale?” she said to the gentleman who, looking frightened, was already showing signs of backing away from them.

“Ah—well, I—”

It was clear he was being a gentleman in not wanting to leave her facing her uncle and the glaring stranger alone, but he was also eager to be gone. She appreciated him for that, but it would only make matters worse if she let him stay. She could handle her uncle.

Under her breath she whispered to Mr. Farthingdale. “This is not the time to be chivalrous. I’d like for you to leave.”

“Surely you don’t want me abandoning you?”

“Yes, I do. You will end up looking like a nincompoop. You don’t want my uncle calling you out, do you?”

He barely shook his head. His gaze seemed frozen on her uncle.

“Go immediately.”

“Yes, yes, Miss Whittingham,” Mr. Farthingdale managed in a trembling voice. “I believe I will take my leave. If you’ll excuse me. Gentlemen.” He turned his back on them and started walking away.

“Not so fast, young man.”

“Uncle Archer, please. Let him go. It’s better that we handle this between you and I.”

“If only we could, Mirabella,” her uncle said. He blew out a loud breath and wiped the top of his head with his handkerchief.

Mr. Farthingdale glanced from Mirabella to her uncle. She nodded to him, and he hurried away.

Her uncle approached with faltering steps. “Mirabella, I’m speechless. Tell me that young blade accosted you, and you were trying to cry out for help. I’ll have him apprehended at once.”

Uncle Archer’s knitted brows and red face said it all. He was horrified, and had every reason to be. Why did the moon have to be so bright? She didn’t want to see the anger and disappointment in his eyes. Nor did she want to know what was written on the stranger’s face. This was not how she envisioned seeing him again.

Summoning courage she wasn’t sure she had, Mirabella admitted, “I’m afraid that’s not true, Uncle.”

“Blue heavens!”

Mirabella was hot with embarrassment and only wanted to sink into the ground. But she wouldn’t let either of the two men staring at her know how distraught she was over being caught during such an indiscretion.

“We can discuss this at a more appropriate time, Uncle. Perhaps you’d like to introduce me to the gentleman with you.”

Reluctantly she took a long look at the man who’d captured her dreams last night and her thoughts all day. She saw brooding anger and condemnation in the depths of his eyes and the way a small muscle worked at the corner of his mouth. His expression crushed her. Why did it bother her so to see how her inappropriate behavior affected him? It hadn’t bothered him like this last night when she was forward with him.

“No, Mirabella, I wouldn’t.” Uncle Archer shook his head so hard the loose skin under his chin trembled. “I can assure you
this
is the last man I want to present to you.”

She held her head high, trying to calm her breathing. Any other night there would be a breeze to cool her heated cheeks, but all she felt was moist, warm air. She desperately wanted to reach up and wipe Mr. Farthingdale’s kiss from her lips, but instead she held her hands at her sides and gently crushed the soft tulle of her gown in her fists.

“And why is that?” she somehow managed to say with as much calm as if she were pouring afternoon tea.

The man took a step toward her and very coldly said, “Perhaps because I am Camden Thurston Brackley, Viscount Stonehurst and your fiancé.”

For a moment she couldn’t breathe. “Oh my, no. That’s impossible.” Mirabella’s whispered words were a protest. She stared at the viscount, trying to make sense of his words. “Surely you can’t be. He’s abroad. Gone.”

She backed away from him until her legs hit the garden bench she’d just vacated. This couldn’t be true. Fate wouldn’t be that cruel. This intriguing man who’d been so charming last night couldn’t be her fiancé?

“I was. I just returned from America
last night
.”

Mirabella cringed with shame. He had to emphasize the words “last night.” Reminding her they had met. She had been alone. She had kissed him. Oh, merciful heavens, what must he think of her? And all of it was true! What rotten, rotten luck.

She looked up at him and realized she had been prepared for
everything
but this. She wanted to run home and bury her face in her father’s shoulder and sob. But she couldn’t do that. She had to stay calm and dig deep inside herself and find the strength to face Lord Stonehurst.

Mirabella forced herself to look into his eyes and say, “I’m sorry you chose this awkward moment to seek me out.”

“I’m sure you are.” His words were clipped.

“I’m afraid you’ve caught me off guard.”

“Obviously.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You could start with an apology,” her uncle barked in a barely controlled tone of anger, “but I doubt it will do any good.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t,” the viscount answered.

“What to do? What to do?” Archer mumbled under his breath along with a few other incoherent words as he mopped his face with his handkerchief. He turned to Lord Stonehurst and said, “You’re not going to call Mr. Farthingdale out for this, are you?”

“No,” he said coldly. “You have my word on that. Once was enough. I don’t need anyone else seeking asylum in France because of me.”

“Yes, very well. Good. No doubt Mr. Farthingdale will be pleased to hear that, too.”

Lord Stonehurst’s piercing gaze didn’t waver from Mirabella’s as he talked to her uncle or when he said to her, “I think it would be appropriate to conclude you haven’t been pining away with loneliness during my absence.”

Mirabella winced. His cutting words hit their mark, but instead of being cowed by them, she lifted her chin and shoulders and answered as strongly as she had a moment ago. “Pining away? Over a man who left me on the shelf for six years. I think not, my lord.”

“Mirabella, it’s best you don’t say anything else,” her uncle said and motioned for her to come to him. “I’m not responsible for this—this is a situation for your father to handle. No doubt he’ll blame me, but I’m not responsible for what you have done. Come. We’ll get your wrap and go home immediately.”

Ignoring her uncle, she stared into Lord Stonehurst’s fathomless dark brown eyes and a part of her wanted to cry. God help her, she was angry with
him
for being her fiancé, angry with
him
for being here tonight, and angry with herself for getting caught doing something she had to do. She knew as far as he was concerned she was without excuse. She had no defense. She had no way to explain her unacceptable behavior. Mirabella would tell no one of Sarah’s shame.

This was far worse than she could have ever imagined. She had convinced herself that Viscount Stonehurst would never return for her. That her fiancé could have shown up and caught her in the arms of another man was bad enough, but for her fiancé to be the same man who had filled her heart with a longing to be kissed made the hurt almost unbearable.

If only they had exchanged names last night. If only she’d waited a few days after Uncle Archer had spoken to her about her behavior. If only fate hadn’t decided to be so cruel. And worst of all, her father would have to know what she had been up to and that she had deliberately ruined her reputation and the possibility of marriage.

“Mr. Hornbeck, would you leave us alone for a few moments?”

Mirabella’s gaze flew to Lord Stonehurst’s again.

Her uncle shook his head, clearly distressed. “I’m sure I can’t do that under the circumstances, Lord Stonehurst. I think you should talk to her father, not to me and not to her.”

“It’s all right, Uncle Archer,” Mirabella said, walking closer. Her legs were shaky, and her body was stiff with pain, but she had to push all that aside. “I think we do need a moment alone.”

He uncle sighed heavily. “If you insist, I guess it’s all right. The harm is already done. I’ll stand over there on the patio and wait for you because I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

Lord Stonehurst looked at her, allowing his gaze to sweep up and down her face as if seeing her for the first time. His outrage was to be expected. But she was committed to Sarah, and she couldn’t have changed her course of action.

Tension clogged in her throat. She sensed that he was holding the brunt of his anger in check by a mere breath. The air around them seemed to crackle like lightning during a summer thunderstorm.

Refusing to buckle under the strain, softly she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me who you were last night?”

“You didn’t tell me your name.”

“You were a stranger to me.”

He raised an eyebrow.

Mirabella instantly wanted to take back her words. Naturally he would remind her that she had kissed
that
stranger. “I didn’t know you, but it’s clear now that you knew who I was. That was unfair.”

“No.” His eyes darkened with anger. “I didn’t know your identity. How could I? We had never met. I had just arrived in London, and I hadn’t even been to see my family because it was so late when the ship docked.”

She believed him. That he hadn’t deceived her about that made her feel a little better, but there was no graceful way out of this very uncomfortable situation. “The only thing I can do is apologize.”

“Under the circumstances that’s little comfort.”

The condemning tone of his truthful words rattled her for a moment, but only for a moment. Who did he think he was to sound so righteous? What encouragement had she received from him these past years?

She shook off her shame and embarrassment and suddenly bristled with anger. “I understand you feel betrayed, but at least I’ve offered you an apology. I haven’t heard one from you.”

He folded his arms across his chest and glared at her. “An apology from me? Whatever for?”

“For being gone six years.”

“You jest, Miss Whittingham. There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m certain there wasn’t a time limit on our families’ arrangement.”

“A properly brought up gentleman would have been aware of the passing time and not have kept his fiancée waiting so long.”

The muscle at the corner of his mouth twitched with tension again. “So in my absence, you decided to seek solace in the arms of another man?”

Solace was not the word she would have used, and Mirabella wasn’t about to admit to anything. “I’m sure you never sought the comfort of a woman’s arms these years you’ve been gone.” She took a step closer to him and lowered her voice even more. “If you haven’t, then I will confess to being a weaker person than you, Lord Stonehurst.”

A slight flare of what she thought to be admiration glinted in his eyes for a few seconds, but all too quickly the anger returned. “You give me too much credit, Miss Whittingham.”

“Accept only what’s deserved.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“Who? Mr. Farthingdale?” She lifted her chin. “Certainly not.”

“You were kissing him. If you don’t love him, then obviously I am to assume you make a habit of kissing men you don’t love?”

Oh, why had she been so enchanted by him last night that she kissed him? She was trapped. “It would appear to you that is the case, for it is true I have no affectionate feelings for Mr. Farthingdale.”

He unfolded his arms and advanced one step toward her. “You puzzle me, Miss Whittingham. Last night I found you walking the streets alone. You kissed me when we parted.”

“It was only a little buss on the cheek.”
A powerful kiss.

His dark eyes stayed steady on her face. “A kiss nonetheless. And tonight I find you wrapped in the arms of a man. What am I to think?”

“It is your fault, Lord Stonehurst.”

He frowned deeply and tensed again. “Mine?” he asked ruefully.

She wouldn’t back down. “Yes.”

“This is because I’ve been gone longer than what you deemed proper? Longer than you’d hoped?”

“I dared not hope you would return,” she said, her own anger rising again. “I overheard you tell my father you would not return until you were old and gray. Congratulations, sir, you almost made it.”

“You were eavesdropping?”

She ignored his accusation and allowed him to add it to his ever growing list of her faults. She was guilty of far worse.

“After my first Season passed and you didn’t return, I assumed I’d been put on the shelf. If you’d been here three years ago, or two months ago or even last week, I wouldn’t have been kissed by another man. Therefore it is your fault.”

“Your courage is extraordinary.”

Mirabella’s voice grew softer. “I speak the truth. I resigned myself to never being a bride, Lord Stonehurst. Must I go through life without a kiss, too?”

His eyes narrowed. His expression softened, but only for a flash.

“A kiss is all you wanted?” His voice lowered. His eyes grew fierce. Fury radiated from him. “Very well, Miss Whittingham.”