The Convenient Bride (3 page)

Clayton
waved him off. "Now, what about this stipulation? Do I have to live there
for a year or something insane like that?"

"Not
precisely. You must wed within three weeks of the reading of the will. If you
do not have a bride by that time, the entire sum and the castle will go to your
cousin Sir Gerald."

"Sir
Gerald?" Emily announced in horror.

"Bride?"
Clayton shouted.

"Three
weeks?" Roderick uttered.

"If
not for the money," Stephen said bitterly, "I would let Sir Gerald
have the old ruin."

"Gerald
is an insufferable oaf," Emily said tersely. "A man like him should
never have that amount of money."

"Can't
let him have the castle," the duke said with a cold edge to his voice.
"I've heard things about that man that would rattle your bones. Everybody
back inside. Let's discuss this calmly."

Clayton,
too startled to protest, followed the others into the library, with Banes
leading the way.

"Three
weeks," Clayton said, trying to assimilate the information as he strode
restlessly about the room. "How the devil am I to find a bride in three
blasted weeks?"

Banes
pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his brow. "I have no idea, my
lord."

"What
about a special license?" Stephen asked offhandedly.

Clayton
regarded his brother's smiling eyes. "And whom do I marry, oh wise one? Do
not forget about that miscellaneous detail." His gaze swung toward his
sister. "What do you think of Miss Hookston now?"

Emily
gasped. "You wouldn't dare? This is foolish. Special licenses are for,
well, special things, like me and Jared. We were in love. You cannot think of
going through with this."

But
Emily was wrong. He was already listing the possibilities in his head. No, he
wouldn't have a marriage based on love. Lady Serena had burned any notion of
that. While he had been serving his country under Wellington, she had decided
to marry someone else. But a convenient bride was another matter.

He
pursed his lips, intrigued at the notion. There had to be some lady who would
fit in with his family, some lady he could set up nicely in the country, some
lady who would bow to his commands and be a biddable wife. Yes, by Jove, he
could do it. He would do it. But it would definitely not be Miss Hookston.

"Hell's
bells, Clay," Stephen said, his mouth dipping into a frown. "Tell me
you are not really thinking of doing this."

Clayton
whipped his head around. "Put a cork in it, baby brother, or I'll do it
for you."

Stephen's
eyes narrowed. "Will you now?"

The duke
raised his hand. "We can work this out. There is my wife's ball this week.
What say you to finding a lady there?"

"I
say it is the most idiotic thing I have ever heard of," Emily cried.
"It's outrageous!"

"I
don't think so," Clayton replied calmly. "Besides, I do believe it is
my choice."

Clayton
avoided Emily's sour expression as he strode toward the window. Inheriting that
sizeable amount of money freed him from the family coffers. Not that he didn't
receive a quarterly sum handed out by Roderick, but it was a pittance to what
he had lost in his investments. He would be a fool to let this go. Yes, he
would marry for convenience sake. He could do it. He could.

"It
may be idiotic and outrageous," Banes said, "but quite lucrative.
Ethical is another question altogether. Of course, this is none of my affair,
but I will say, Lord Clayton, that after I spoke with your uncle when making
this will, he mentioned something about his contented life as a married man.
Perhaps he may have wanted the same thing for his godchild, duty and all that,
you know."

Banes shrugged
and stuffed his papers into a leather case. "I will leave a copy of the
will with you and send one to your man-of-affairs. You have three weeks. If you
do not have a bride by the stated time, the holdings and all monies will be
settled upon your cousin. No need to see me out."

With a
quick good-bye, the man departed, closing the door with a resounding thud.

"Well,
he couldn't get out of here fast enough," Emily said. "I daresay it's
such a sordid thing, I don't blame him at all."

Clayton
dug his heels into the rug as he paced. "Three blasted weeks. It seems
impossible. What lady in her right mind would marry me in such a short amount
of time?"

"None!"
Emily exclaimed. "Oh, depend upon it, you could have some simpering female
like Miss Hookston, but don't let her pretty looks deceive you. She knows
exactly what she's doing."

"And
I know what I am doing," Clayton said, exasperated. "Miss Hookston
may be a beauty, but believe it or not, she is not the kind of lady I wish for
my wife. What I need is a detailed list of possible candidates."

Silence.

All
heads turned when the mantel clock chimed the hour.

Clayton's
narrowed gaze traveled over his siblings. "Confound it! Would you rather
Gerald inherit the money?"

Emily's
shoulders drooped.

Clayton's
mouth twisted with frustration. "When I entered this room today, marriage
was the last thing on my mind. Dash it all! The very last thing!"

Stephen
threw a booted foot upon the hearth and tilted a smile Clayton's way. "It
happens to the best of us. Who knows, old boy, you may end up just as blessed
as Roderick and me."

Clayton
let out a dry laugh. He should be so lucky.

Emily's
hands formed two stiff fists by her sides. "I fail to see the amusement in
finding a wife." She regarded Stephen. "And I doubt Elizabeth would
find this funny." She darted a gaze toward the duke. "Or Jane, Your
Grace."

A flush
swept across both gentlemen's cheeks.

"Em,"
Clayton said, hoping his sister would relent, "what about one of your
friends?"

"Oh!"
Emily marched toward the door. "You are impossible!"

Turning
toward the window, Clayton caught sight of Banes stepping from the walk and
into his carriage. Three weeks! Who the deuce would fit into his plans and
marry him in such a short amount of time? Clayton stared back at Emily.

Her eyes
burned into his. "I would never give you leave to marry one of my
friends!"

Hmmmm,
one of her friends...

A pair
of intelligent emerald eyes suddenly came to Clayton’s mind. Of course! Miss
Garland! The girl wasn't bad to look at, with her dazzling auburn hair and
those fairylike eyes. And it didn't matter to him that her nose was always in
the books.

At least
he could have a decent conversation with the lady. Of course, he wasn't fond of
her matchmaking mama, who had been hounding him for years. Still, he recalled
the girl's kindness and biddable nature. There was that one time when he had
been teaching her to waltz, but that did not signify. No, not at all.

His lips
curved into a satisfied smile. "Em, I believe Miss Garland is staying with
you for a spell, is she not?"

Emily
wagged a stern finger at him. "Don't you dare!" With a huff, she
turned and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Roderick
raised a mocking right brow. "If I don't miss my guess, I think that means
you are to stay far away from the lady."

Stephen
fixed his eyes on the door and frowned. Clayton looked at him in disgust.
"Do not tell me you are leaving, too?"

"I
daresay Emily has a point." Stephen plowed a hand through his brown hair.
"I love my wife and don't plan to have her separated from me because of an
old man's will. If you were to marry for convenience and I helped you,
Elizabeth would be livid."

Stephen
had almost been pushed into a marriage of convenience with Elizabeth over a
stupid wager. Though the couple had worked out their differences and eventually
fell in love, Clayton knew the same thing wouldn't happen to him. Love would
not be involved at all.

He
pointed Stephen toward the door. "I am not one to meddle in my brother's
marriage. Off with you, then."

Stephen
gave a sigh of relief and started across the room.

Clayton
turned. "Roderick, are you with me on this?"

His
eldest brother stiffened. "I am a duke. I can do whatever I want. No woman
dictates my life."

Jane
might have something to say about that, thought Clayton, but he had desperate
need of Roderick's assistance and he kept that thought to himself. "Then
you will help me?"

Roderick
played with an ivory letter opener on his desk. "This is the end of the
Season. The parties are winding down. As I said, we are hosting a ball in a few
days, but I fear that will not leave you enough time to make a choice. You need
a more intimate setting to make your move."

Stephen
turned with his hand on the door. "By George, never say it came from me,
but I believe Lord Grimstoke is having a house party at the end of the week. I
think you might find a reasonable female in the mix."

Reasonable
female? Clayton dragged a hand over his face. What choice did he have? Emily
was going to deny him the one biddable girl who would fit perfectly into his
plans.

He
heaved a resigned sigh and peered up at his brothers. "Never thought I
would be saying this, but devil take it, which ladies would you suggest?"

Stephen
yanked open the door. "This is where I take my leave. Ah, good afternoon,
Jane."

The duke
let the letter opener slip from his hands when he heard the duchess's name. The
man's eyes softened as his wife's baby blue eyes peeked into the room.

"Roderick,
dear. Forgive me, but I was wondering when you will be finished. I have need of
the carriage for some shopping and the groom told me you wished to come
along."

The duke
gave her his sweetest smile. "Indeed, I do."

Roderick
hurried to his wife's side, taking hold of her hand and kissing it. "I
have a little side trip planned just for the two of us," the duke
whispered.

Jane's
face colored, and Clayton gave Marcus a hard look. Down to one sibling. It was
quite apparent Roderick was out of the game. Blast it to pieces! The duke had
been married almost a year, and by Jove, staring at the couple, one would think
it had been only a week of wedded bliss!

Roderick
lifted a wary gaze. "Gentlemen, I will leave you to the details. My duty
awaits."

Clayton
sank into a nearby wing chair and groaned as the door snapped shut once again.
"Duty! You would think all my brothers would help me out in a time like
this."

Marcus
crossed the room and grabbed the decanter of brandy, a wicked sparkle in his
eyes. "Yes, well, married life can do that to you. You'd best be sure of
what you want."

"Hell's
teeth. I never planned to be married, not after—"

"Lady
Serena?" Marcus said, not glancing his way.

Clayton's
face went grim. "History. But the worst of it is, I lost everything in
that shipment from the West Indies."

His
brother peered at the glass in his hand. "Everything?"

"Everything.
And if I don't take that blasted castle, I will be dependent on dear old
Roderick and the family coffers."

Marcus
pulled the bell cord. "I had no idea things were that bad. Then this
mission calls for a bottle of a finer substance."

"Make
it two bottles. If we have to make a list of ladies, I want to make it as
painless as possible."

Chapter Three

"
Y
our
mother entrusted me to find you a husband. And I intend to do just that, even
if I have to move the search beyond the Season."

Briana
Garland looked up from her seat in the moving carriage and frowned at her
godmother's remark. Oh, she loved the lady dearly, but sometimes Agatha was
just as stubborn as she was.

Miss
Agatha Appleby had been childhood friends with Briana’s mother, Lady Garland,
and there was nothing Agatha wouldn't do for the lady or her godchild,
including finding Briana a husband. And since Lady Garland had withdrawn to the
country to recuperate from her persistent headaches, Agatha had become Briana's
sole chaperone for the London Season.

"I
have obligations other than marriage, Agatha."

The
elderly lady's black parasol hit the floorboard with a loud clap.
"Fustian! Obligations providing for a women's home? As a Christian I
believe in your cause, but as a single woman you will be shunned by the
world."

Pressing
her lips together, Briana stared out the window of the vehicle as it rolled
down the London streets toward the Duke of Elbourne's townhouse. Whether Agatha
liked it or not, Briana intended to follow through with her plan.

She was
going to visit her friend Jane, the Duchess of Elbourne, hoping the lady could
help her find a home for her proposed women's shelter, a project that Agatha
obviously believed would result in social suicide.

Briana
leaned her head against the cool pane of glass, her throat tightening. What did
she care about Society anyway? It's not as if she ever intended to marry.

"Briana,
did you hear me?"

Briana
turned. Her gaze collided with a pair of steely gray eyes. "I heard you.
But you do things and you are not shunned."

Most
people would take one look at Agatha, with her salt-and-pepper hair and plump
body, and think her a sedate older lady consumed with thoughts of tea parties
and peaceful drives in die country. But this harmless-looking lady had been
secretly involved in the war against Napoleon for years. No one would ever
think she worked for Whitehall.

Briana
certainly hadn't thought such a thing, not until a few months ago when Agatha
had come to her for help in the area of Egyptian architecture, which had led to
the deciphering of certain mathematical formulas.

For
whatever reason, Agatha had needed answers fast. Briana had provided the
answers, but her suspicions about her godmother had grown to astronomical
proportions.

Briana
badgered Agatha for her own answers.

It all
came to a head when Agatha needed more help in her so-called research. Though
it proved a shaky period in their relationship, with great thought, Agatha had
finally confessed to her involvement with the government and had asked for
Briana's silence. Briana begged to be part of the lady's secret world. The
answer had been an emphatic no.

But
Agatha saw qualities in Briana similar to those in herself, which Briana,
knowing the soft heart beneath that hard exterior, took full advantage of, and
at a weak moment, the stubborn older lady, had given in to Briana's persistent
requests to be part of Agatha's secret life. What was the difference anyway?
Briana was providing Agatha with answers. This way she was part of the team.

Of course,
Briana's work for Whitehall was done at home, a desk job of sorts, but Briana
was thrilled. She didn't have access to exactly what was going on. But it
didn't matter if Briana knew only a small piece of the operation. That
momentous time in her life had brought her out of mourning for her father and
sister and into a new world of excitement and intrigue.

The
lady's black parasol thudded against the carriage floorboard. "For
heaven's sake, child! I am an elderly spinster! I am allowed to do what I want!
Taking care of single females in their delicate time, well, it's simply not
done by another unmarried woman, especially a young female as pretty as you.
The scandal, child."

Briana
touched her hair. Did the lady ever think that their work with Whitehall was
scandalous? Of course that was secret, but still...

"For
one thing, I am not pretty. Auburn tresses are not at all the thing."
Briana raised a hand to her nose. "And freckles are considered a sin.
Nothing I do helps."

"La,
my dear, you are prettier than ever, and you possess a brain most gentlemen
would give their right arm to have."

"I
have no wish to capture a gentleman's attention," Briana said, wishing the
driver would pick up his pace and hurry to the Elbourne townhouse. The very
idea of finding a husband was beginning to grate on her nerves. Agatha was
becoming more obsessive about the subject every day they were together.

For the
past few weeks they had been staying in London with Agatha's nephew, Lord Stonebridge,
and Lady Emily. Briana enjoyed her stay at the earl's home, and she especially
loved the children and catching up with Emily, but even Emily had been hinting
about a husband for Briana. And Emily could be quite mischievous if she wanted.

"My
dear girl," Agatha said, "fading into the walls is all well and good
if you are trying to escape a scandal, but as a lady on the search for a
husband, it won't do at all."

The
carriage had begun to slow down and Briana was counting the seconds. This was
definitely a subject she did not want to touch. It opened too many wounds. How
could she tell her godmother that allowing herself to love a man would only
cause her pain? The man would eventually leave her, either physically or
emotionally, and that was never going to happen to her again.

"I
like not being seen, Agatha." It saves me from heartache.

"I
have noticed that lately, especially this Season. You used to be such a happy
child. Maybe not as outgoing as Emily, but you enjoyed being with people. I
heard Lord Rockham asked you to ride with him in Hyde Park the other day and
you declined."

Agatha
took Briana's hand in a warm clasp. "What happened to the girl I used to
know?"

Briana
swallowed, not trusting her emotions. That Briana is dead, she wanted to say.
That Briana was an innocent soul, full of dreams and foolish wishes.

Emily
was wed to the man she loved, and for her, marriage was wonderful. Jane was
like a daughter to Agatha. She had married Emily's brother, Roderick, the Duke
of Elbourne, and the loving couple were seen everywhere together.

Briana
closed her eyes. Somehow her friends had found men they could trust. Briana
never would. She just didn't see it happening for her. Trusting a man could be
hazardous to her heart and her freedom. Hadn't her sister paid the ultimate
price? The past was indeed a lesson for the future.

"What
happened?" Agatha repeated, her voice full of concern.

"Oh."
Briana looked up, squeezing her godmother's hand. "After I declined the
offer, Lord Rockham asked Miss Celia for a ride instead. I didn't mind at
all."

Agatha's
gaze narrowed on Briana's forced smile. "I am not asking about Rockham. I
am asking about you. And do not lie to me. Those eyes of yours tell me you were
buried in the past."

Briana
dropped her lashes. "My sister died alone and afraid. I can never forget
that or how my father sent her away."

Agatha
clenched her hand on her parasol until her knuckles turned white. "Your
father was an idiot."

Briana
blinked back the pain. "What father would send his daughter away? Clarice
was with child, Agatha. A child with child!" Briana wiped a hand across
her eyes. "He wanted nothing to do with her. Oh, he admitted his fault
later, but it was too late. Too late for everything."

Her
father's actions had horrified her. He had died a few weeks after Clarice. The
doctor had mentioned a heart ailment, but Briana knew it had been caused by a
mixture of grief and guilt over his daughter's death.

Agatha
bent toward the window and dabbed at her eyes. "Drowning in the Thames,
such a terrible accident. It's your father whom I'll never forgive."

Briana
swallowed past the large lump in her throat. Many people were convinced Clarice
had taken her own life. Briana didn't want to believe it, but the situation had
been desperate and Clarice was such an impulsive child.

Her
sister's terrible misfortune had been enough to destroy Briana's trust in men.
And why should it not? Sir Garland had thrown his daughter out of the house in
a fit of rage. The man who had gotten her sister with child had left Clarice to
carry the burden alone. And then Briana's own love had abandoned her, only to
get himself killed. It wasn't safe to depend on a man at all.

A horse
neighed and a gust of warm air filled the carriage as the footman opened the
door and let down the stairs. They had arrived at the Elbourne townhouse.
Grateful for the interruption, Briana grabbed her reticule to leave.

But to
her dismay, Agatha waved her parasol at the footman. "Close the door,
James. We will be with you in a minute." The footman nodded and slowly
clicked the door back into place.

Briana
sank back in her seat. Though Agatha had business in Town and would return in a
few hours, the lady was not about to leave Briana until the conversation had
some closure.

Briana
rubbed her hand across the leather seat. "I think my father's pride was
hurt when he discovered Clarice's predicament. I forgave him a long time ago,
but I will never forget."

"Well,
your papa's dead now, child, and you need a husband. Since your mama is
recovering from those devilish headaches, I must take the initiative—"

Briana
lifted her chin. Her mother's headaches had gotten worse after Clarice's death.
The lady had never forgiven her husband for what he had done. "I am not
going to marry."

"But
you are out of mourning now. Plenty of gentlemen have been asking about you
this Season."

Plenty?
There was only Lord Rockham, who was twice her age and widowed with five
children. "The mourning period for my sister and father has given me time
to think."

"Indeed,
it has. I believe wearing black made you realize you could easily disappear
into a crowd more than ever before."

Briana
felt her color rise. It was true. After returning to her customary clothing for
the Season, she found the talent of fading into the background quite useful
when one did not want to find a husband. Dull shades worked very well.

"I
see no reason for you to be so stubborn about this, Briana. A women's shelter
can be supported by other groups."

Briana
shook her head. "No. I aim to see that Clarice's death was not in vain.
There are too many ladies in trouble, and if I can help one of them, I
will."

"My
dear girl, you are as stubborn as ever."

"My
sister fell into some man's trap, and our father let her down. I have to do
something."

Agatha
sighed. "But you cannot save the world."

"I
can do everything I can to save another woman from such a terrible fate. The
shelter will house women who are with child and have no one to care for them.
After their babes are born, I intend to find positions for them where they can
take their children with them, or if they want, they can give the baby up for
adoption. That is the least I can do."

"But
a husband can give you the respectability to do such a thing. Don't you
see?"

"I
don't need a husband. A man left Clarice in her delicate state. My own father
let Clarice down. A husband would be a yoke around my neck. He would own
everything I had."
Including my heart if I let him.

"Not
if he loved you—"

"Love?
I used to believe in it. Once, when—"

Agatha
raised a discriminating brow. "You fell in love with that lieutenant, did
you not? It was when I was staying at Hemmingly and you were caring for your
mother. I always had a feeling about him."

"I
don't want to talk about it."

Briana
had missed Agatha during the few years she had been without the older woman's
support. She had seen her godmother during the year of mourning, but for three
years previous she had been taking care of her mother in Bath, hoping the waters
would cure the lady's headaches. That was when she had met Lieutenant Alistair
Perry.

"He
was supposed to sell out his commission in the spring of 1815, was he
not?" The compassion in Agatha's voice touched her.

"Yes."
He promised me he would leave his regiment. And I believed him. He said he
loved me, but he loved the army more.

"But
Napoleon escaped from Elba," Agatha continued, to Briana's dismay,
"and your lovely lieutenant was killed."

Briana
bit her lip. She didn't want to recall Alistair's death at Waterloo. The pain
had eased in time, but her distrust of men was still there and she didn't see
it changing in the near future. Alistair was a good man, but he had left her.