The Convenient Bride (7 page)

Emily,
Roderick and Stephen had all found their true love. But Clayton had turned his
back on love after Serena had left him. Had he loved her? He wasn't sure
anymore. But he'd vowed never to go through that again. No one would have part
of his heart, love or otherwise. He had been a soldier and he quickly learned
that a vulnerability, mental or physical, could get you killed, and it dashed
well wasn't going to happen to him.

He set
the bookend down. "I lost everything in the tobacco shipment. I have
nothing left."

There
was a slight pause before Emily spoke. "I can understand how you feel, but
you have us. Roderick or Jared could give you some money, even lend—"

"No!
I will not beg!"

"It
won't be begging. We're family. You are entitled to your monthly sum."

"Many
gentlemen live like that, but I cannot. Yes, that amount may keep me in London.
I could gamble, go to Newmarket, even travel a bit But I want control over what
I do. Since I lost my fortune, I would become dependent on the family. Roderick
would always have a say."

"No,
he would never interfere in your life."

There
was a loving gentleness in his sister's tone that tore at his heart. He didn't
want her sympathy or her pity.

"Oh,
yes, he would. Roderick is the head of the family now."

The hope
in Emily's eyes faded. She understood all too well the wish to be independent.
She had her own skeletons. "I cannot in good faith give you a list of
women for your choosing. There are some who would marry you just for the money,
and there are some who would marry you as a means to escape their family.
Either way, it would be a terrible loss for you, don't you see?"

"No,
I don't see. I can make a decent choice. Don't you trust me? "

"I
certainly cannot stop you. Most likely I will know the lady of your choosing. I
can only wish you well."

"Then
you will not condemn me?"

She held
his gaze. "No. I love you. Clay. But I want you to have what I have."

He
marched toward the door. "I don't want your pity, Em. I want your
help."

"What
are you thinking?" Emily asked in alarm.

Clayton
peered over his shoulder, his lips curving into a wicked smile. "Marcus
gave me a short list, but I think I can do better. You refused to help, so I am
left to my own devices. I cannot promise you anything."

Emily's
eyes widened. "Oh, no, you don't!" She ran to the door and flung her
arms wide, blocking him from leaving.

He
glanced at her. "What? You think to stop me?"

"Yes.
Briana is not for you."

He
returned her determined gaze with one of his own. "I think you are
wrong."

"Oh,
you are despicable! Just because she adored you as a child does not mean she
adores you now."

His
chest swelled beneath his waistcoat. "She adored me?"

Emily's
lips puckered. "You know very well she followed you around like some
duckling waddling after its mother."

Clayton
vaguely recalled the girls following him everywhere when he had been home. But
Emily had been with Miss Garland every step of the way. He had thought simply,
well, it had never occurred to him the little bluestocking with the green eyes
adored him.

Though
he had believed Miss Garland a perfect candidate for his list, after today's
tea-spilling incident, he was definitely having second thoughts. And a nice
list of possible brides from Emily would help him considerably. He decided to
goad her a bit.

"For
your information, I don't think Miss Garland's mother would turn me away. She
has been after me for years. Do you know she mentioned marriage last time we
met?"

Emily
glared at him. "Then by all means marry the mother!"

Clayton
laughed. "Ah, very amusing."

Emily
crossed her arms over her chest, reminding Clayton of a general he once knew.
"If you dare hurt Bree, I will never speak to you again."

"Give
me some credit, Em. I am not an unfeeling oaf. I will handle this in the most
delicate manner."

Her keen
gaze swept over his person. "Hmmmm, very well, I will give you a list of
ladies that would suit you."

Clayton
tried to act shocked. "You will?"

"Yes.
Your blackmail worked. I will have your list by tomorrow."

Chapter Six

"
A
nd what say
you to the weather, Princess? Do you think it will rain?"

Briana
fit rather snugly in a child-size chair in the Stonebridge nursery as she
carefully picked up the miniature teapot, pouring air into the nearby cup where
Gabrielle was seated.

Gabrielle
giggled, bringing the cup to her lips and slurping the tea air. "Papa says
it's going to rain, but I want to play outside." She set her elbows on the
table and leaned forward, her blue eyes sparkling. "But Fairy Ladies can
change the weather."

Briana
threw a hand to her chest. During the past few weeks Lord Stonebridge had
teased her, calling her the Fairy Lady whenever she had her head in her books.
His lordship would say Briana seemed to be in another world.

Maybe
she was—just like Gabrielle was today. Of course, Briana knew the earl had not
come upon the witty name alone; it had come from dear old Emily, the true
teaser in the family.

"But
I am not a Fairy Lady, Princess. You must be mistaken."

Gabrielle
pointed a white finger at her. "But you are the Fairy Lady! Papa told me!
You go ... you go other places!"

Briana's
eyebrows rose at the vehemence of the girl's claim. That comment definitely had
the earl's imprint.

Briana
loved the study of mathematics and could lose herself in the Pythagorean Theorem
for hours. She also had a fascination for Egyptian architecture. The pyramids
never ceased to amaze her. She understood about going other places easily
enough.

She
smiled reassuringly. "Well, then, I guess I am the Fairy Lady."

Gabrielle
smiled with pride and scooted onto Briana's lap. "I know you are the Fairy
Lady." With her tiny finger, she traced the freckles on the bridge of
Briana's nose. "You have lots of feckles. Papa said that if I touch a
feckle on a Fairy Lady, I can make a wish." A cool finger pressed lightly
on Briana's nose, and the little girl squeezed her eyes shut.

Feckles,
not freckles? Briana adored this little girl.

"Feckles
are magic," Gabrielle whispered, opening her eyes. "Very magic. And I
can make a lot of wishes when I touch them."

Two
innocent blue eyes stared at Briana. "Do you know what I wished?"

In her
mind's eye, Briana could see the earl laughing. But the thought of his love for
his daughter touched a chord in her heart that had been numb too long.
"Oh, no. Princess, you must not tell me the wish or it won't come
true."

"Oh!"
Gabrielle slid off Briana's lap and immediately began to set the teacups back
on their saucers for another round. "I won't tell. I promise, I
won't!"

Briana
laughed. "Princesses keep the best secrets."

"And
do princesses like tea?"

Briana's
head turned at the distinct male voice filling the room. Lord Clayton stood
just inside the door, his violet-blue gaze looking more mischievous than ever.
His words seemed to hold a certain challenge, and she boldly met his gaze. Had
he asked the earl's valet for another pair of breeches? A smile sprang to her
lips, for indeed the clothes were a snug fit.

She
looked away, suddenly embarrassed. His easy stance emphasized his well-formed
muscles and narrow hips, making her all too aware of his powerful presence.
This man, with his dark features and compelling eyes, certainly didn't look
like an idiot.

Why had
she ever uttered that word? Because he goaded me, she thought, feeling her
cheeks turn red. And she had to admit, for a few seconds he had acted like an
idiot!

Gabrielle
ran toward him. "Uncle Clay! I have tea! Do you want some?"

The
man's smile filled the room with sunshine as he lifted the little girl into his
arms. "Only if it is princess tea."

Gabrielle
broke into laughter. She tried to inch higher in his arms. "I have a
secret," she said, one eye peeking at Briana.

Lord
Clayton's lips quivered. "I keep secrets, too."

Gabrielle's
face pinched with thought. "I can tell you," she whispered, "but
you can't tell anyone. Ever."

The
man's inquisitive gaze shot to Briana and he winked.

Heat
flooded Briana's face. Gabrielle was cupping the man's strong jaw with her two
petite hands and leaning into his ear. What was the girl telling him?

The man
threw back his head and laughed.

Briana
bristled, wondering if he meant to be so alluring.

A
multitude of conflicting emotions surged through her. Why did he have to like
children? Wasn't being handsome enough for him? His kindness along with his
imperfections made him more appealing than ever. A handsome bachelor who adored
children was a dangerous combination—even though he did act like an idiot from
time to time.

She rose
from her chair, having no wish to be in such close quarters with the man. Her
heart was already leaning in his direction, and she was in no position to give
it away for free.

She had
gained too much knowledge in the past few years, and as a woman of learning,
she had no reason to let her emotions take over now. She couldn't forget
Clarice, her father, or Alistair. She wouldn't forget. Ever.

Good
grief! What fanciful notions were taking over her brain anyway? The man wanted
nothing to do with her. She was only his sister's houseguest, nothing more.

"Miss
Garland, you are not leaving?"

Frowning,
Lord Clayton let Gabrielle slip to the floor. "Forgive me for my
intrusion. I should have announced myself. But my sister asked me to stay for
dinner. She is having duck with plum sauce. It is a favorite of mine."

I knew
that, Briana wanted to say. You also like raspberry tarts. And you smell of
bayberry soap every time I'm near you. Instead, she waved a hand over the table
and tried to figure out a way to avoid this man. "We were having a party.
But—"

Before
she could excuse herself, Gabrielle grabbed hold of her uncle and dragged him
into the nursery. "And now we can have a big party! Like Mama has in the
drawing room!"

Within
seconds the little girl had connected her free hand with Briana's.

Clayton's
brows went up as he regarded the situation. "I dearly hope my niece is
pouring."

There
was a teasing laughter in his expression that gave Briana all the more reason
to leave. She didn't mind being laughed at, and she didn't mind a good joke,
but this man was playing with her emotions. She didn't like that at all.

"Perhaps
the princess would like to be with her uncle ... alone," she said,
slipping from Gabrielle's grip.

The girl
shook her head, jumping up and down. "No! No! I want a big party! I want
Nigel, too! Don't go away!"

She spun
toward the door and scampered from the room. "Nigel! We're having a
party!"

Lord
Clayton shuddered at the sound of Nigel's name. "Confounded
creature," he muttered, making his way toward the hall. He looked over his
shoulder as Briana followed him. "You are not leaving our little party,
are you?" The challenge was evident in his eyes as he turned around and
blocked her way.

She
froze. Of course she was leaving! The insufferable man! But she certainly
didn't want him to think she was running away from him! Even though that's
exactly what she was doing!

"Certainly
not," she said calmly, turning toward the window.

She
thought she heard him chuckle during the icy stillness that fell between them.
As the minutes passed, she couldn't find anything to say to the man, and the
awkwardness increased.

She was
embarrassed that she had lost her temper earlier, but sometimes Lord Clayton
infuriated her. He was nothing at all like Alistair. She picked at the lace on
her sleeve. And handsome lords did not willingly join tea parties!

"So,
you have magic feckles, do you?"

The
seriousness of the man's voice made her grin. She turned toward his towering
figure, watching a smile spread across his entire face. Merciful heavens! She
was not exactly afraid of him. It was just that he was so undeniably
attractive.

"They
are called freckles, my lord. Society detests them."

"Ah,
I see."

"Yes.
Diluted hydrochloric acid does not seem to help. Neither does the lemon juice
my mother gives me."

He
started to walk toward her. His eyes locked onto her face as if he were
inspecting every freckle she had.

She
backed up against the small doll cradle. Her heart began to beat double time.
What exactly was he trying to do?

"You
are not afraid of me, are you, Miss Garland?"

"W—why
in the world would I be afraid of you?" He came close enough that she
could smell the familiar bayberry soap he had used in his morning bath.

"Because
you seem to be avoiding me."

"I—I
am not avoiding you." She walked toward the tea table, clanking the dishes
about for another round of pretend tea.

He
leaned against the wall and stared at her. The intense look on his face was
similar to the one he had given her in the drawing room. Well! She was
certainly not going to be the one to run away and give credence to his
suggestion that she was avoiding him.

Managing
a tiny smile, she took a seat at Gabrielle's small table, hoping the girl would
arrive soon.

It
seemed an eternity before he spoke. "What do you think of marriage, Miss
Garland?"

Briana
almost fell off her chair. "W-what?"

His
forehead seemed to crease with concentration. "Marriage. I was wondering
your thoughts on marriage."

Was he
mad? It was the last thing she expected from this man. "I don't think this
an appropriate conversation, my lord."

"I
meant no harm. I was only wondering why you are not married. It seems an
innocent question to me."

He might
be a lord, but she was not some simpering female he could tease. "And an
arrogant one, my lord. For your information, I am not a diamond of the first
water, and my dowry is quite small compared to those of most ladies of the
ton
.
Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

"For
some ladies of quality, a small dowry would be a disadvantage in the marriage
mart, but most females would not let that stop them. Even a bluestocking such
as you, Miss Garland."

Briana
pressed her lips together. The blood pounded to her brain, and she clenched the
teaspoon in her hand. The arrogance of the man!

The
smile in his eyes incensed her as he pushed off the wall and strode in the
direction of the window seat. Without missing a beat, he began sketching on
Gabrielle's easel.

Minutes
passed before they spoke again.

"And
what do you say of marriage, my lord?" she asked prettily, her blood
simmering.

Two
violet-blue eyes peered over the easel. "Marriage?"

"Oh,
forgive me for asking, my lord. It seems speaking to a bluestocking is not on
your list of things to do."

He
laughed then, a deep male laugh that resonated in her heart. Here was the boy
Briana had known when she was a child. Arrogant, yet amusing. Witty, but
charming. Handsome, yet insufferable!

He
raised his brows as she walked toward the door. "You are not leaving? What
about the tea party?"

Oh, she
certainly was leaving!

A bark
sounded in the hall, along with the thwack of little feet. Briana frowned.

"I
found him!" Gabrielle shouted. "We can have a big party now! And Cook
is sending some cake and 'emonade! Here it comes!"

A maid
was behind the little girl, bringing in a tray of sweets, along with a small
pitcher.

"Lemonade?"
Briana asked, wishing it were only she and Gabrielle at the tea party.

"Uh-huh."
The girl bounced into the room and pulled at her uncle to sit on one of the tea
party chairs. Clayton's long legs hit the table with a thud.

"Too
big!" she cried.

Clayton's
lips puckered. "Well, Princess, what if I push my legs out straight?"

The
little girl clapped her hands and smiled. "Just right!"

"Oh,
no!" She frowned. "Only two chairs!"

She put
a finger to her chin and looked across the room at Briana. "I know. You
can sit on Uncle Clayton's lap!"

Clayton
snorted.

"I
think not," Briana said firmly.

"But
I am the princess!" Gabrielle sat on her chair and stuck out her bottom
lip. It was obviously time for the girl's nap.

"Yes,
Miss Garland, she is the princess," Clayton said, a hint of amusement in
his voice.

The maid
had left, and Gabrielle and Lord Clayton were staring at Briana, waiting for
her to make the next move.

Wanting
to kick Lord Clayton from his chair, Briana knelt beside the little girl and
said calmly, "May I pour, Princess? But after one glass, I will have to
leave. The king awaits."

Gabrielle
giggled. "Nigel wants some 'emonade, too. He likes it!"

The dog
barked and brushed Briana's arm at the same time she was picking up the pitcher
of lemonade. Her hand slipped and Clayton jumped back. But it was too late.
Nigel had pushed Briana aside, sending her off balance, and the lemonade
splashed onto Clayton's lap, pitcher and all.

An oath
sprang to Clayton's lips as he slipped off his chair and onto the floor. Briana
gasped, trying to regain her balance, but to her horror she fell onto Clayton's
chest.

Gabrielle
stood up and laughed, pointing her little finger at them. "You look
silly!"

A steely
arm wrapped around Briana's waist. "My dear girl," Lord Clayton said,
"remind me never to ask you to pour again."

"Well,
well, what have we here?"

The
cool, disapproving tone of the earl's voice penetrated Briana's ears.

Gabrielle
squealed in delight as her father stepped into the room. "It's a tea
party, Papa! But it's not tea! It's 'emonade!"

"That's
wonderful, Princess." Taking the girl into his arms, the earl directed his
firm gaze toward the couple. "May I have a word with you, Clayton?"

The arm
around Briana's waist tightened just as another voice broke into the room.

"What
in the world—"

Blushing,
Briana looked up to see her godmother's gray eyes taking in the scene. The
older lady stood behind the earl, her face a mask of disapproval.

"I
can explain," Briana said apologetically.

Lord
Clayton let out a groan, and his arm suddenly loosened. He rolled onto his
elbow, and in one fluid movement he rose, taking Briana with him. The breath
whooshed out of her lungs as she swayed to the side.

Lord
Clayton stood behind her, his hands pressing gently against her shoulders to
steady her. "Easy."

The
gentle whisper jerked at her heart.

"We
were having a tea party," Lord Clayton said. "Nothing else."

Gabrielle
clung to her father's neck, having no notion of the tension swirling about the
nursery. "It was 'emonade, Papa."

Jared
patted his daughter's head. "Yes, lemonade. You already told me that,
poppet."

A bark
interrupted the conversation, turning Gabrielle's head toward her tea table.

"Oh,
no! Nigel is eating everything!" the girl screeched.

The
massive brown dog began to slurp at the spilled drink on the floor and sniff
the cakes.

Gabrielle
kicked her feet, trying to get down. "My 'emonade!" She slipped from
her father's arms and chased after the yelping dog, pushing him away from the
mess. "Bad doggie!"

"I
can explain," Briana said, trying to make her voice heard over the noise.
She thought she heard Lord Clayton muttering, calling the dog an infernal
beast.

Agatha
shook her head and stretched out her hand for Gabrielle. "Come here, dear.
We can give Nigel some lemonade in the kitchen."

"But
he ruined everything!"

"Now,
now, you know it wasn't all Nigel's fault."

Agatha
raised a curt brow Clayton's way, then took her leave of the nursery with a
crying Gabrielle in tow.

Briana
frowned and stared at Clayton, who had made an unusual snorting noise. Was the
man actually laughing?

Jared's
voice penetrated Briana's thoughts.

"Clayton,
if you can tear yourself away from the tea party, I would like to see you in my
study as soon as possible."