The Convenient Bride (18 page)

"Yes.
Perhaps I should call it a night."

Kingsdale
smiled as he escorted her off the dance floor. "So you are not afraid of
me, then? I thought perhaps you wanted to rid yourself of my presence as soon
as possible."

"No,
but you must understand there is nothing between us, now or in the
future."

He was
directing her toward the terrace, and she went with him, knowing in the back of
her mind that it was a bit reckless, but she really didn't have time to dawdle.
She had a mission to accomplish. She had to set this man straight before things
got out of hand. They would not go far. The terrace was within sight of the
ballroom, after all.

"I
think you are wrong, Miss Garland. We have always had a connection of some
kind. You cannot deny it."

His
arrogance was unbelievable. A warm breeze caressed her cheeks as she stepped
outside. She stopped a little ways from the terrace and turned to him, her chin
set.

"A
connection for you is a stepping-stone to marriage, my lord. I don't love you
and I never will."

"You
did once." His tone had become chilly.

The man
was living in another world. "No, you only thought I did. We had some
things in common, but nothing significant."

"I
disagree. You know more about Egypt than most lecturers on the subject. You
have a great understanding, Miss Garland. We could do well together."

Briana
realized they were close enough for other people to hear their conversation.
She moved down the steps, beneath the trees, but still in sight of the
ballroom. "I will make this perfectly clear, my lord. I don't want to
marry you or anyone, ever."

His
entire body seemed to change. "Why, because of your sister?"

His
words stunned her. "How—how dare you speak of my sister. You know nothing
about her."

"I
know she was with child when she died."

Briana
felt the color leave her face. "Do you know the man?"

"Perhaps
I do."

He took
hold of her arm and escorted her beyond the sight of the dancers. She let him
because she wanted to know the truth. He would not dare lay a finger on her at
Grimstoke's party.

"Would
you marry me if I told you?" He stopped and glanced down at her, his lips
twisting into a cynical smile.

She
shook her head, realizing she had been a fool to let him draw her away from the
party. "I want to return."

He
grabbed her hand. "Think about it, my dear. I could take you to Egypt. We
could travel to all those places you've seen in your books. I know people who
enjoy what you can only dream of doing. We could explore pyramids and tombs.
Delve into life and death. This English Society is such a bore. We could live
like the pharaohs. I will have money soon. More money than you could ever
imagine."

Briana
slipped easily from his grip, glancing over her shoulder. She had to return to
the ballroom. He was so engrossed in ancient Egyptian lore, he didn't know
reality anymore.

"I
wanted to know about my sister. But it seems you lured me here without
intending to tell me anything, because you don't know any facts at all. And to
set matters straight, I don't want your money."

"But
I want you." The pain that flickered in his eyes touched her. "My
baby brother was killed in that hateful war. The Regent should have stopped
Boney long ago. I don't have anyone anymore. Don't you see? You could make my
life complete."

His eyes
pleaded with her, and for a moment she almost stupidly reached out to him.

"You
would make me whole again, my dear. I have a few things in England I have to
consider, but after that I will be free to travel."

The man
was playing with her emotions as if they were toys to be discarded at a
moment's notice. "I appreciate your offer, my lord, but I cannot
accept."

His jaw
hardened and he jerked her toward him, grabbing her pearls in his fist.
"Cannot or will not?"

She
gasped, aware of the dangerous glint in his eye. She tore herself away,
slightly ripping the delicate outer bodice of her gown.

"Is
it someone else, Miss Garland?” He sneered. “Or have I not been forgiven for
leaving you those years ago?"

Gulping,
she grasped the small tear in her gown. He was in his own demented world. Him
leave her? She was the one who had rejected his offer. "I have no need to
marry, my lord," she said as calmly as she could. "No need at
all."

He took
hold of her chin, tilting her face toward his. "You will. I hear our host
is quite the champion of innocent maidens. If he finds us alone and you with
that small tear in your gown, for which, my dear, I am heartily sorry, he may
demand a wedding. The archbishop visits the neighboring village this time of
year."

The
blood drained from her face. Violet had said as much.

He
laughed then, patted her cheek and dropped his hand. "Never fear, I won't
force you. What are a few more weeks to change your mind?"

She
glared at him, refusing to cower.

"Ah,
still the prim and proper miss? But I like that. Indeed, I do. You have the
royal blood of the pharaohs, my dear. I can see it in your eyes, green as the
calmest sea yet glinting with a cool radiance that can bend a man to your
will."

Realizing
he was letting her go, she fled from his side, skirting the terrace and
hurrying through another door into the hall. No excuse could ever cover the
tear in her gown.

Fighting
back the fear that Lord Kingsdale was following her, she rushed up the stairs.
She heard a voice and hurried into the library, closing the door behind her.
The man was insane. If he hadn't mentioned Clarice, she would never have fallen
into his trap.

She
gazed about the room, her hands shaking. Fingers of moonlight fanned through
the slight opening in the curtains, while a tiny glow of dying embers
illuminated the hearth.

Taking a
deep breath, she tried to calm herself.

If he
were following her, she would stay here until she felt safe. Her bedchambers
were another flight up. She swallowed lightly. Perhaps she could continue her
search for the missive.

She
crossed the room and picked up a candlestick, lighting it from the smoldering
remains of the fire. She noticed the writing box had been moved since her
encounter with Lord Clayton. Could that be a sign?

Hope
spiraled within her. Could this hold what she was looking for? Heart hammering
wildly, she sank into the chair and dragged the writing box toward her. She
frantically searched about for the release mechanism Violet had mentioned. The
lonely flame beside her wasn't enough. She couldn't see the details—

"Writing
secret letters, Miss Garland?"

Briana
inhaled sharply, letting the writing box fall to her lap. She slowly turned
toward the tall shadow looming near the curtains. In the dim candlelight she
had missed him, but she couldn't mistake the deep voice that she had known
since childhood.

"You
should have made yourself known, my lord."

Lord
Clayton moved toward her, his eyes gleaming like sapphires in the glow of the
candle. "Did your rendezvous with Kingsdale end early?"

She
froze, her senses going numb.

He took
another step and stopped, clasping his hands behind his back. "Come now,
Miss Garland, we both know the man is more than fond of you. Why have you run
from him? I saw you on the terrace and then the two of you disappeared."

A deep
silence blanketed the room, increasing the tension between them. She couldn't
think of a response. Her tongue felt like the down of her pillow. Could he be
part of the assassination plot? No, it was impossible.

She
nervously fingered the writing box while swinging her gaze toward the door. The
walls of the library seemed to be closing in on her. What could she do? What
should she do?

"Why
are you here, I ask myself," he said, breaking into her reverie. "I
wonder, could it be the same reason as I?"

Merciful
heavens! Could Clayton be part of the conspiracy? Or was he taking Agatha's
chaperone suggestion to heart?

She
peered up at him, noting the light shadows dancing along his jaw. The lines
around his mouth were harsh and unforgiving.

He had
taken her completely by surprise more than once, but this was the outside of
enough. Why was he here? What was going through his head? "I had a
headache, my lord, and needed some time alone. So, if you don't mind
leaving—"

He let
out a sardonic laugh that prickled her skin. "I needed some time alone,
too, you see. I have been in this room only a few minutes. I left the soirée as
soon as I saw you with Kingsdale." His voice seemed strained, but there
was a hint of his usual arrogance in it that irked her.

The
embers from the fireplace glowed eerily throughout the room. She stood, setting
the box in front of her. He was watching her intently. He moved to sit on the
corner of the desk.

Her
throat tightened, and she felt a blush work its way up her neck.

"I
like books just as much as you do, Miss Garland. In fact, the Elbourne library
became my second home. I remember when you were staying there one summer and
you confiscated all my books on planetary movement. I was livid to discover
they were gone."

She
remembered that, too. A small smile lifted the corner of her mouth. "If I
recall correctly, I was studying Galileo's theory of gravity."

"You
always had a fertile mind. I think that's what I liked most about you"—he
paused and leaned toward her—"among other things."

Among
other things.
The
aroma of bayberry broke her defenses and her heart leapt to her throat. He was
too close. She moved away and accidentally bumped the candle, killing the flame
and sending the wax spilling onto the floor.

The
silence of the room engulfed them as their outlines danced against the tiny
glow of the fireplace. He seemed to be waiting for her to speak.

"I
was going to write a letter," she blurted, colliding with the chair. What
a pitiful excuse!

"Really?"
he said, rising, coming around the desk, blocking the fireplace. "How very
unusual. In the middle of the night? While there is dancing going on
downstairs?"

His
voice lacked the usual charm, and again she wondered why he was walking the library
at such a strange hour. What did he want from her?

"I
said I had a headache, my lord." She tried to move, but the chair blocked
her way. She needed to get away from him.

"I
don't believe you. Tell me the truth. Was Kingsdale the reason you fled?"

She leaned
into the chair. "I should be leaving. If you want to stand here all
night—"

Before
she knew it, he had wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pushing the chair
away and pulling her toward him.

The red
embers illuminated his face. His expression was hard, his eyes fixed.
"Were you going to meet Kingsdale here?"

She
shoved at him, hurt by his accusation. "I don't know what you're talking
about. And I don't know why you are interested in my affairs at all, unless you
are jealous."

"Jealous?
Of Kingsdale? The man is not the marrying type, no matter what he says."
He glared at her and fingered the rip in her gown. His jaw stiffened.

"Did
he hurt you?" His hold on her slackened, and he seemed genuinely
concerned.

Puzzled
by his change in mood, she lowered her gaze. There was so much about this man
that was kind and decent, she was afraid she might fall in love with him and be
unhappy the rest of her life. But he wanted a convenient bride, someone who
would look the other way, and Briana could never do that.

She
looked up. "Lord Kingsdale wants to marry me."

His hand
slipped down to her wrist while eerie shadows played across his sharp features.
He seemed to be smiling. "But you won't marry the man because you love
me."

She
blinked, thinking she had heard incorrectly. "I what?"

"You
love me." He said the words with such utter conviction, she wanted to box
his ears.

"I
certainly do not." Or at least she wasn't about to tell him she did.

"You
do. You don't want to admit it because I hurt you."

She spun
away, giving him her back. "You want a wife to satisfy your family. I
won't be a party to that kind of marriage."

"You're
wrong." She could almost feel the tenderness of his consuming gaze.
"I want you."

He came
from behind her, circling her waist with his strong hands. His palm spread
across her stomach and his breath was a warm puff against her neck. "I
want you."

The
words twisted her heart. "No," she said softly.

When he
said nothing, she turned in his arms. A knot rose in her throat as she faced
him. "I made a vow. I won't marry, my lord."