Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (211 page)

Scott

St. Just shook his head in protest. "I can get the papers, but police will be watching the roads.

Papers won't be enough."

"I know. Make them out in the name of Lady Burke. Get me a special license and a gown of your cousin's."

Plans swirled around Sophie until her head spun. What was Julian talking about? "Those papers will be a

They'll do no good if it can

be proved they're a forgery." These men were mad. Julian was reorganizing the world with false names and alibis, and St. Just was standing there nodding as if it was perfectly acceptable behavior.

Julian paused and

to her. "It won't be

a lie, Sophie. We'll be married by special license at Karlskirche within the hour. I know it's not St.

Stephens but it's too far. Karlskirche is only around the comer."

Sophie shook her head. "Wait. You can't marry me."

"Are you already married?" Julian inquired.

"No, but. . .

"Do you have another idea for getting you out of the city before di Brazzo finds you?"

"No, but. . .

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Libertine Lord, Pickpocket Miss

An attractive young woman swept down the steps. "A wedding today, Julian? What will you think of next? You're a positive scandal." She laughed and moved toward them.

"Good morning, Emma." Julian bowed.

"Cousin, can you find something suitable for Julian's bride?" St. Just nodded in Sophie's direction, and Sophie found herself being led upstairs by a young woman who seemed as stubborn as St. Just and as mad as the completely insane Julian Burke.

"Here, this will be perfect." Emma pulled a green gown the color of celery

her

wardrobe and held it up to Sophie. "How exciting to be

Julian by special license."

"It's not a real wedding," Sophie tried to protest.

"Julian doesn't do anything that isn't real,"

Emma argued, pulling Sophie's old gown over her head. "He's an English lord, you know, back home. Lord Julian. His brother's the earl but he gets the title as an honorific. You'll be Lady Sophie."

Sophie's knees nearly buckled at the Among his other careers, Julian

was an English lord? She absently

her

Scott

through the sleeves of the green dress, letting Emma arrange the skirts and find the matching shoes.

"Come sit.

do your hair up in a pretty

style. Oh my, it's so long," Emma exclaimed as she pulled out the pins holding it in place. "Shall we leave it loose? You look like a medieval princess. We're lucky the dress fits so well." From somewhere, Emma produced a length of filmy, sheer material and fashioned it into an impromptu veil.

Emma chatted away

and Sophie

knew she was doing her best to alleviate Sophie's nerves. But Sophie's thoughts were too far away to concentrate on the conversation for long. She wanted to talk to Julian, to tell him he needn't do this. There had to be another way. He couldn't possibly love her. That was the sad part. While he couldn't possibly love her, she could quite possibly love him. Even without a title, she could love him. The irritating, cool, sardonic rake was also a man capable of extreme tenderness and intense passion.

There was a knock at the door. St. Just poked his head into the room. "Emma, we're ready. I've a carriage waiting to take her to church." Good

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Libertine Lord, Pickpocket Miss

lord, it sounded like a real wedding day when St.

Just said it like that.

carriage, a dress-one

would be hard-pressed to believe assassins were searching the city for her.

"Wait." Sophie rose. "St. Just, can't you talk him out of this? It's madness." Panic tinged her voice.

St. Just flashed her a queer look. "You could do far worse than Julian, Miss DuPlessy. I would him with my life, and you can too. That's enough to build a relationship on, don't you think?"

He was scolding her. "I'm not a coward,"

Sophie retorted, gathering her skirts. She crossed the room to take St. Just's

her head high, her

eyes flashing.

"All the same, Miss DuPlessy, you might need this." At the door, St. Just handed her a little gun reminiscent of the one she'd

behind in her

ruined apartment. "Julian mentioned you know how to use one of these. I

there's a pocket on

Emma's gown?"

"You know I've had all my gowns made with a pocket," Emma reminded her cousin teasingly.

"It's there on the right side, nice and deep. No one will notice it."