The Convenient Bride (6 page)

Lord
Clayton took a seat across from her and picked up the empty teapot, setting it
back on its tray. "So, Miss Garland, we meet again."

Briana
slowly raised her eyes to gaze at him. She wasn't afraid of the man. It was
just that he was so... so charming and infuriating at the same time! "So
we do," she said sweetly.

Her eyes
slanted slightly, daring him to mention yesterday's fiasco. He was nothing at
all like Alistair. Where Alistair held a quiet gentleness, this man held an
authoritative air that suggested he could obtain anything he wanted.

He
cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, his grin twisting her heart
until she could barely think anymore. He was remembering yesterday. She could
see it in that gaze. Drat him and his alluring smirk. Alistair had never made
her feel like this.

"Your
mother is well?" he asked politely, the smile slowly fading as if he
suddenly remembered her mother.

It was
all Mama's fault, she told herself. Lady Garland should never have mentioned
marriage to this man.

Briana
wanted to leave the room immediately. The poor lord had to act like the perfect
gentleman and sit with her until Emily appeared.

But if
Briana knew anything about Agatha, the lady would make certain Emily was late.
Not only that, her godmother would make certain to detain the maid who was to
clean up the mess as well.

"My
mother is ill with the headaches, my lord. She is resting in the country. I am
staying with my godmother and the earl until the end of the Season."

He
nodded, glancing up at the mantel clock. It seemed he was contemplating the
weight of the world. Yesterday didn't mean anything to him. What a goose she
had been even thinking it had.

Little
did she know that in the back of Clayton's mind she was a slim but potential
candidate for his bride, even though Emily had commanded otherwise.

Oh,
Clayton knew he would never love Miss Garland. But he could respect her. She
had spirit, gentleness, and intellect, all wrapped tightly into one neat little
package. If Emily didn't come through with a list, he was definitely putting
Miss Garland on his.

"The,
uh, weather has been rather fair for June," he said, wondering what was
going on inside that little red head.

"Yes,
it has been rather fair."

He
tapped a finger against his knee. "Your mother is faring better, I
presume?"

He
distinctly remembered the summers this female had spent at Elbourne Hall.
Briana Garland had been a sweet, biddable girl without a spiteful bone in her
body. Her meekness had amused him more than once during those carefree years.
But now, well, she seemed different. A bit more unyielding than he remembered,
and definitely able to stand on her own two feet. She had pluck.

Two
lovely green eyes stared back at him, and a strange sensation swept through
him. "Better? I believe I mentioned that my mother is recuperating in the
country, my lord," she said stiffly. "And she is not better."

"Ah,
I see."

"Headaches!"

"Yes,
headaches will do that." He sat up straighter. Now, this was quite odd.
The lady seemed rather annoyed with him.

After a
few more minutes of dull conversation, the maid finally came in to clean up the
mess, bringing another round of tea. Miss Garland put her hand to the pot.
"May I pour?"

Clayton
looked up into those stubborn green eyes and felt a rush of pleasure. When had
the female become so alluring?

Before
he could answer, Nigel gave an obnoxious bark and decided to jump between them.
With a horrified yelp from Miss Garland, the teapot flew from her hand toward
Clayton's lap.

"Yeooooow!"
Clayton shot out of his chair as hot tea splashed across his breeches. He
slapped at his thighs, feeling the burning liquid seep into his skin like
flaming coals from hell.

Nigel
howled while Miss Garland jumped up and down, dabbing a handkerchief to his
legs.

"I
am fine, madam," he hissed between his teeth. "Quite fine!"

She
pulled back, her cheeks turning pink. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to throw
it at you."

Clayton
backed up, his hands in the air. "Just stay where you are." He was
trying desperately not to curse.

Two
green eyes went wide. "It's not as if I meant to do it!"

Clayton
eyed her suspiciously, his legs still smoldering. "Of course not," he
said through a stiff jaw.

Her lips
began to tremble. By Jove, he hated tears. "There is no reason to
cry."

Her
delicate brows narrowed. "I am not crying!"

"Well,
where the devil is Emily?"

"You
do not have to shout!"

"I
am not shouting!" he yelled back.

Nigel
barked.

"You
are shouting, my lord!"

Clayton
bit back another curse as he watched the lady's delicate white hands deposit
the teapot back onto the silver tray. The burning on his legs seemed to be
subsiding. But her bold retort had surprised him. Again.

His gaze
clung to the base of her swanlike neck as she brushed Nigel aside. Then it
traveled to the freckles that seemed to dance in the sunlight. Her berry lips
were broad and full.

They
were indeed kissable, he thought. It wasn't the wine yesterday that had made
him think that. His eyes suddenly narrowed. What the devil? Wait a deuced
minute. Were her lips moving? Indeed, they were. She seemed to be mumbling to
herself. And by Jove, he thought he heard the word "idiot"!

"What
did you say?" he asked, rather perturbed.

"Nothing."

She
looked up, her spine stiffening. Her lips had turned into a thin line of
disobedience. Biddable she was not! What the devil had he been thinking?

His
hands clenched at his sides as the scent of vanilla assaulted him. "I
believe the word I heard came from either you or Nigel, and since dogs cannot
talk, I assume it came from you."

Her tiny
chin lifted higher, daring him to say it.

He
jerked his jacket tighter to cover the wetness on his breeches, knowing he
should leave the matter be, but a little demon of anger rose up inside him, and
he refused to back down.

"Miss
Garland, I distinctly heard you say 'idiot.'"

Chapter
Five

"
C
layton, I
am so sorry to be late. I—"

Emily
stopped at the threshold of the drawing room, her gaze flicking from the spot
on Clayton's breeches to Miss Garland's pale face. A frown settled across her
brow.

Clayton
understood the meaning of that fixed stare, and dashed if he would be taking
the fault for this situation. Perhaps he had been a bit detached, but it
certainly did not call for tea in his lap!

"I
had an accident with the tea," Miss Garland said apologetically, turning
to his sister. "Nigel startled me and, well, I jumped. Next thing I knew,
the tea was flying into your brother's lap."

A
mischievous smile quivered at the corner of Emily's mouth.

Clayton's
lips thinned. "I fail to see the amusement in this."

He
turned toward Miss Garland. It was obvious the lady was having a rough time
holding on to her laughter as well.

Her
green eyes twinkled under dark lashes. "Forgive me, my lord. I am such an
idiot."

Emily
could barely control her laughter as she took another glance at his breeches.
"No, you are not an idiot. Is she, Clayton?" his sister added,
pretending she had something in the corner of her eye.

Clayton
ignored the question. "I will be in search of your husband's valet, dear
sister. After I find another pair of breeches, I will meet you in your
husband's study."

He gave
Miss Garland a curt bow. "Your servant, Miss Garland."

"Oh,
Uncle Clay!" came the little voice from behind the door. "You came
for my tea party!"

Clayton
groaned. It was Gabrielle, Jared's three-year-old daughter, and the
blond-headed imp noticed everything. Being quite intelligent, she also had a
mouth that knew more words than most girls her age. And yes, he had promised
her a tea party the next time he came calling. Hell and thunderation!

"Oh,
no!" Big blue eyes locked onto his breeches. "Did you have an
ackident?"

"Accident,"
Emily corrected, pressing her lips tightly together to hide her grin.

Clayton
glared at Miss Garland, whose shoulders were beginning to shake. Oh, the lady
was quite a fine actress. He should have caught on years ago. It would have
been funny if it were not so humiliating.

Gabrielle
came across the room and slipped her tiny hand into his. He felt about a foot
tall.

The
little girl tried to whisper, but her voice penetrated the entire room.
"Mama said I have to tell her when that happens." She pointed to his
wet spot.

Nigel
gave a whine of distress.

Clayton
bit down on his tongue. He could only be glad the earl was not home. Jared
would have ripped him to ribbons if he had caught him in this embarrassing
predicament.

Gabrielle
tugged Clayton toward Emily. "Is he in trouble now, Mama? Will he miss my
tea party?"

A few
feet away, Miss Garland burst forth with laughter and left the room.

"What
exactly happened in there?" Emily stood in her husband’s study, perusing a
book from the earl's shelves.

Clayton
planted his hands to his hips, wanting his sister's full attention. But the devil
of it was, Jared's breeches were too blasted uncomfortable. It was deuced hard
to act manly when he knew two women had been laughing at him.

As he
yanked at the waist, he noticed his sister was thumbing through a book on
Egyptian architecture. No doubt the volume was pulled for the red-haired
tea-spiller, he thought, watching Emily's lips starting to tremble.

"If
you can contain your amusement, I may be able to explain."

Emily
glanced over her shoulder, her violet eyes dancing. "I—I am not
laughing."

"Dash
it, Em. It was all Nigel's fault."

His
sister closed the book with a snap. "That dog would never cause any
trouble."

Clayton's
brows went up. "Really? I have heard differently. As a matter of fact, I
have it from a higher authority that good old Nigel trapped you beneath Jared's
bed."

Emily's
face reddened. "That was a long time ago."

"Before
you were married?"

"Nothing
happened," she said, her chin set into a stubborn line.

"Point
taken. That is exactly what I am trying to say."

Emily
placed the book on a nearby end table and crossed her arms over her chest.
"You tried nothing with Briana? You weren't so foolish as to ask her to be
your bride? Your convenient bride, I might add."

Could
his sister read minds now? "What do you take me for?"

"You
are known to be an excellent horseman, a superb swordsman, a decent
rifleman"—she paused—"and an excellent flirt."

Clayton
reddened. "I don't know who you have been talking to, but it isn't
true."

Emily
shrugged.

"Nothing
happened! It was an accident!"

"I
believe you."

"Then
why are you so short with me?"

Emily's
arms fell to her sides. "I'm worried about Briana. Since her sister and
father passed away, she has not been the same."

A cold
ball of guilt began to grow in his stomach as he thought about his conversation
with the lady. All he had been thinking about was that deuced will. He clearly
had not been listening to her—he had been so wrapped up in his thoughts.
Perhaps Miss Garland was correct after all. He was an idiot.

Clayton
walked across the room and paged through the book Emily had pulled. "I had
forgotten about the drowning incident and what effect it would have on her. But
what the devil is wrong with talking about the weather and her mama's
headaches?"

Emily's
eyes burned into him. "How could you have forgotten about Clarice's
death?"

"I
didn't forget. I remember reading it in the papers. I hadn't forgotten they had
been in mourning the previous year either. A man doesn't forget a thing like
that."

"You
were thinking about the will and not paying attention to Briana, weren't you?
As a gentleman, it was not well done of you. You used to do the same thing when
we were children."

He
clapped the book closed. "It's not as if I said something terrible!"

Clayton
knew he would have to find the lady and apologize. Emily was correct. It was
not well done of him.

"Did
her sister commit suicide?" he asked bluntly.

The
fight seemed to go out of Emily. "Oh, Clay, I don't know. They say she
drowned in the Thames, just like you said."

Clayton
shook his head. "All females should learn to swim."

"She
knew how to swim, Clay. Don't you remember that time at Elbourne? Briana and
her sister came out that summer. You were swimming with your friends from
school in the nearby lake. I think Lord Kingsdale was with you. Clarice dove
under the water and bit your ankle. In the meantime, Briana and I dumped your
clothes in the bushes beyond the road."

The
mention of Kingsdale brought a frown to Clayton's face. He had parted ways with
the man a few years ago when Kingsdale had vehemently begun to oppose many
government policies. He had become part of an eccentric group that wanted
complete change.

Oh,
Clayton knew there were some things that needed to be changed in England, but
Kingsdale had been over the top. He was a liar bent on always having things his
way, not only in government but with the women he encountered.

Like a
spider, he lured females into his web, and once they were in his clutches he
struck with a vengeance.

A muscle
ticked in Clayton's jaw as he recalled watching the man spin his plans at
Vauxhall Gardens so many years ago. It was evening, down a secluded path, and
Kingsdale thought he was alone with the lady. But he had not been alone.
Clayton had intervened, rescuing an innocent maiden from Kingsdale's hands,
making the man furious. Afterward the two men had severed their friendship.
Their childhood memories were no longer a reason to forgive and forget.

"Yes,
I remember," he said to his sister, inverting his frown. Emily knew
Kingsdale enjoyed the study of Egyptian artifacts, but Clayton suspected she
didn't know the man's heart was as hard as that of the pharaoh from the story
of Moses. In truth, Clayton was glad to no longer have contact with the man.

"We
had good enough sense to keep our breeches on, but when I caught up to you, you
were sitting innocently next to Father, telling him what a wonderful day you'd
had."

"Yes,
and Briana was embroidering near the fire. We could hardly contain our
laughter."

"I
imagine it was your idea," Clayton said, raising a speculative brow.

"No,
it just happened. We saw a lady walking along the road with her maid and
thought it would be hilarious to leave you and Lord Kingsdale without proper
attire. Briana wanted nothing to do with it. But after Clarice bit you, the
game was on."

"I
admit, it was amusing. But only years later, mind you. Kingsdale was
furious."

Clayton
did not want to think what the man would have done if he had been alone with
the girls. It had taken Clayton years to uncover Kingsdale's unpleasant side.

"It
was silly of us girls, but poor Briana didn't swim. We were going to wade in
the lake when we found you boys. You never had a chance. And since you had
ruined our plans ..."

Clayton
frowned. "Clarice was what?"

"She
was twelve then. We were about fifteen. You know, I think she was only
seventeen when she died."

"She
was a silly little chit, but pretty as a princess."

"But
she's dead. And poor Briana still feels the pain. I suppose it was like that
for me when Papa died."

Clayton
strolled about the room, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes,
well, I suppose it was." He paused. "You know I care about you, Em,
and I do care about the feelings of others, even Miss Garland's. However,
sometimes one must be practical. You must know why I made this appointment to
see you."

Emily's
brows dipped. "Don't say it."

Clayton
glanced over his shoulder. "What?"

"Don't
ask me to help you find a bride."

"Em,
I'm in dire straits here. You're my devoted sister. If not you, then who?"

Emily
tilted her head. "You know, I always wondered what happened between you
and Lady Serena."

"She
married a colonel," he stated in a cool tone.

"Yes,
well, I know that. Everybody knows that."

"His
rank was higher than mine," he bit out "Anything else?"

"She
was a fool."

"Love
is for fools."

Emily
stiffened.

He shook
his head. This deuced will was making him insane. "I'm sorry. I didn't
mean that. You and Jared have a wonderful marriage. It just isn't for me."

"I
know what you mean. You want a biddable wife? A woman who will stay in the
country while you enjoy the entertainment in Town. You don't want to involve
your heart in any way, matter, or form. Tell me I'm wrong."

"Oh,
for the love of the king, I'm not asking for much. It would be a marriage of
convenience, but I certainly don't want my bride to throw me into debtor's
prison after a year of marriage. A husband is responsible for his wife's
actions, you know."

She put
a hand on her hip. "So you want someone with some brains, but not too
many."

"Do
you want Gerald to have the money?"

"No."

"Then
help me." Clayton stood with feet apart, hands behind his back, waiting
patiently for her answer. Surely his sister knew some maidens who would fulfill
his requirements.

Her
violet eyes darkened. "My mind is blank on the subject."

Clayton's
fists clenched. "With or without your help I will find a bride."

"You
cannot marry without love, Clay."

"Love
is not a requirement. Our parents married without love, and we turned out quite
fine indeed."

"Did
we?" she said in a pained whisper. "Did we truly, Clay? It wasn't
easy knowing that Mama desperately loved Papa and he didn't return that
love."

"Hell's
bells, Em! What do you want of me? My soul?"

She
touched his sleeve. "I want you to marry a lady who loves you. I want you
to have what I have now, what Mother has now. What Roderick and Stephen have.
It is possible. Clay. Please, don't throw your life away on this castle and
Cathaven's money. It isn't worth it."

Clayton
shrugged away, picking up one of the earl's alabaster bookends. His parents had
loved him. He knew that. But their life together hadn't been easy. After the
duke had died, the duchess had fallen in love with a gentleman who adored her.
Clayton had never seen his mother happier than she was now.