The Mischievous Bride (29 page)

“Mama said I couldn’t put the pink hat on my little brother, so I put it on Nigel.”

“Hmmmm, I see.”

“Milli told me he looked very pretty.”

“Ah, have you seen Milli?’

“Yes, but I don’t know if I should tell you.”

“And why is that?”

She shrugged. “Mama and Papa don’t like it when I see them kissing and doing all that funny stuff. Soooooo, I think Milli won’t like it either.”

It took all Marcus had not to shout at the little girl and ask her where the devil Milli was doing
that funny stuff
. He knelt down at eye level with the little girl. “I only want to talk to Milli.”

Gabby tipped her head and frowned. “Do you think Nigel looks stupid in his hat?”

“I never said he looks stupid. I only want to know where Milli is. I cannot find her anywhere.”

Gabby giggled. “Oh, well, she is somewhere.”

Marcus blew out a tired breath. He took Gabby’s soft little hand in his. “Where is Milli, sweetheart.”

The little girl raised a finger to his lips. “Shhhhh. I don’t think she wants to be bothered. She is a princess with her prince.”

Prince, he thought. Who the devil was her prince? And where in the blue blazes were they? The house was big enough to hide anyone, anywhere!

Marcus fixed the slipping bonnet on Nigel’s head. “Who is her prince then?” he asked, acting quite calm about the situation.

Gabby clapped her hands. “Oh, that looks much better. Doesn’t it, Nigel?”

The dog looked up at Marcus and barked.

“The prince?” Marcus asked, feeling rather sorry for the poor canine.

“That big man,” Gabby stated, answering him.

Marcus’s head jerked. “Lord Knightengale?”

Gabby patted Nigel’s back. “I don’t know who he is. But he is verrrrrrry big like you!”

Exasperated, Marcus tried a different tactic. “What color hair does the man have? I mean, the prince?”

“Oh, he has hair like yours.” She tilted her head. “Well, I am not sure. But he has hair!”

Marcus grimaced. “I see.”

Gabby sighed. “But I ‘member he was kneeling, and Milli acted like a princess in love.”

Kneeling? Marcus felt his muscles stiffen. “Where is their castle?”

Gabby seemed intrigued that Marcus was playing along. “Oh, it’s by the ballroom by the conserve place.”

“The conservatory?”

She nodded, delighted that he knew the place. “Yes, that’s it!”

Marcus pulled the hat off Nigel and put it on Gabby’s head. The dog barked, as if a thank you. Marcus bowed to the dog, then bowed to Gabby. “Your princess now has a crown that looks delightful.”

Gabby’s eyes twinkled with delight. “I am the princess now, and you are my servant.”

Marcus laughed. “I will be your servant a little later, after I see Milli.”

“Well,” the little girl frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “I may be queen by then, and you will be sorry because I might not have time for you.”

Marcus tapped her nose. “Until later, my little queen.” Then he was off in the direction of the conservatory, ready to yank some prince off his knees and throw him out of the house.

Milli stood in the conservatory, picking off the petals of the red rose she had snipped from the plant beside her, letting them float softly to the floor.
He loves me, she thought, he loves me not.

“Ah, Miss Millicent, do have a care and answer me now. ‘
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. O, that I were a glove upon that hand. That I might touch that cheek!
’”

Milli inhaled the sweet scent of the nearby flowers and dropped her gaze to Lord Hughmont who kneeled before her. “That was beautiful. Shakespeare does have a way with words, does he not?”

Hughmont’s grin widened. “Ah, I knew you would like that. So, my dear, would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Milli gave him an endearing smile. “You have asked me three times, and I am not ready to answer you today.”

She didn’t know who had murdered her father, but in truth, she didn’t think Lord Hughmont capable. But who could it be?

Lord Hughmont rose, wiping a hand across his forehead. “Do you love another?”

Milli leaned against the wall, letting the naked stem of her leftover rose fall to the floor. “Oh, woe to the man who conquers thy woman’s heart, for she is nothing but a pawn in his game of love.”

Hughmont looked surprised. “I say, what play is that from?”

Her eyes lit with laughter. “Mine.”

He chuckled. “I like it.”

She looked at the rose petals about her feet and frowned. Hughmont could not be the killer, he just couldn’t be.

She looked up, her brain swirling with thoughts of who had done the vicious deed. “I have had offers from Knightengale, Bennington, and Valford, and now you. I am overwhelmed and just need some time.”

A light scrape caught her attention and she turned her gaze toward the door. Her heart gave a jolt. She thought she caught a glimpse of Marcus passing by.

Marcus stood a few feet down the hall from the conservatory, his black brows rising in shock. Knightengale? Bennington? Valford? And now Hughmont? Were they interested in Milli or her money? It didn’t matter. She belonged to him!

“Perhaps a kiss would tell me if you truly love me . . . John.”

John was it?

Marcus clenched his jaw. Milli’s suggestion stunned him. How could she ask Hughmont to kiss her when she loved him?

Something in his heart hardened. How could he have thought she would make a good wife? What in the blue blazes had he been thinking? She was like Lady Madeleine all over again.

He stepped into the doorway and watched in stunned silence as Hughmont kissed Milli on the lips. Every muscle in his body tensed. He could no longer stand still and watch the little flirt. She may be young, but she knew what she was doing.

“Lord Marcus,” she said, looking up and batting her eyes. “I had no idea you were there.”

Marcus stared at her, then glared at Hughmont. “I think it time you leave.”

Hughmont scowled back. “I think it may be time I speak with your guardian, Miss Millicent.”

Milli regarded her suitor with a tight smile. “Perhaps that would be a good idea.” She lifted her chin toward Marcus as Lord Hughmont stomped past him.

“Did you need to see me?” she asked politely.

Marcus wanted to shake her and kiss her at the same time. Instead, he just stood there, watching her. “Your father’s murderer has been found.”

She paled. “W-who is it?”

His footsteps echoed against the floor as he walked toward her. “We don’t know. The missive came from the general. They didn’t mention a name, only that the man was in custody and his identity would follow.”

Her gray eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “Why did he do it, Marcus? Papa was a kind man. I don’t understand.”

Marcus didn’t think of William Shelby as a kind man. Shelby had loved his daughters, but the man had lived for money and power. And he died because of it. The man had tricked Stephen into a card game, wagering his own daughter. Luckily, things had worked out. But Marcus wondered what the man would have done with Milli had he lived.

“You father wanted as much money as he could obtain,” he said, answering Milli’s question. “I believe the debts owed to him may have been the reason he was killed.”

She nodded, wiping the wetness from her cheeks. “So, you don’t think my suitors are involved?”

“No. The man in London has confessed. It is done. You are free to marry Hughmont.”

She looked up through red-stained eyes. “Hughmont?”

“Or is it Knightengale?” he snapped out, clearly agitated.

“Knightengale?”

“Or Bennington or Valford?”

Milli’s face colored. “You think I should marry one of those men? Well, maybe I shall!”

Marcus swallowed an oath. “Perhaps I shall marry as well.”

She paused, staring at him as if she had never seen him before. “Ah, you have finally asked Miss Canton?” Her voice took on an odd tone, and if he hadn’t known better, he would think she had been hurt by his words. But not this lady. She had made it clear to him that she adored having a host of suitors at her beck and call.

“Of course,” she said with a laugh. “The killer is found, and now, you are dreadfully relieved that you can drop your silly lovemaking antics toward me and direct them toward your true love. I suppose you have some idea whom I should marry? You are the brother of my guardian after all. You must have some suggestions.”

Marcus wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her, but instead he held back. He would not be played the fool again.

Milli picked up another pink rose and began picking the petals, letting them fall to the ground. “He loves me.” Pluck. “I think Lord Bennington is rather handsome.” Pluck. “He loves me not.” Pluck. Pluck.

Marcus stiffened.

“Of course there is Lord Valford.” Pluck. “He loves me.” Pluck. “His eyes simply make me melt in his arms.” Pluck. “He loves me not.”

Anger rushed through Marcus’s veins. He wondered how many times Valford had kissed those berry lips?

“Although, I do adore Breadford’s dimple . . .” Pluck. “He looks like such a little boy when he smiles at me.” Pluck. “I daresay it tickles my toes.”

Tickles her toes? Had the man seen her barefoot? Confound it. This was the outside of enough. The lady was a flirt beyond all flirts.

She threw the entire rose in the air, letting it drop at his feet. “Of course, Lord Hughmont is the most eloquent.” She put a hand to her breast and swayed. “His words of love simply spear my very soul.”

Marcus narrowed his eyes at the look of adoration on Milli’s face. What the devil had she done with Hughmont?

“But Knightengale is so strong. So very manly.” She peeked past her long dark lashes. “Don’t you think?”

“I am astonished that he has not carried you off and made serious love to you.”

She blushed.

“Hell’s teeth! Has he?”

“I am a lady. You must allow me to keep certain things to myself.”

“You are a flirt.”

Her gray eyes blazed with anger. “How dare you! You are the one who kissed me, who held me, who let me believe you loved me!”

“Loved you? I have never allowed myself to say those words to any woman. I believe you are a dreamer as well as a flirt.”

“La, sir. Am I to understand that you have no feelings for me at all then?”

He paused, reining in his emotions. “My affections for you are as a brother-in-law to your sister. You are somewhat family, so therefore, I must acknowledge you.”

“Ha, acknowledge me? Why, I am honored. You are so very charitable. I cannot fathom your generosity. I declare, it makes me almost faint.” She staggered against the wall and put a hand to her head.

“Your theatrical talents are lost on me. So pray, do not even try. You are a flibbertigibbet of the worst kind!”

Her hand closed into a tight fist, crushing any petals she still held in her hand. “Why, sir, I was thinking of your talent as well. What words! What conversation! What wit! Not only that, to pretend to love me, to kiss me with such ardor, must have made you squirm in those pretty polished boots. Your acting abilities trump even the best actor at Drury Lane or pray, even the Royal Theater!”

Marcus’s eyes flashed. “You will have to speak to your guardian before you marry.”

“Ah, I am overwhelmed with your solicitude. You are always thinking of me. How very kind.”

Marcus saw through her sarcasm, but wondered if she was acting to hide something. Had he wronged her? For a moment, he thought that perhaps she was quite hurt. Perhaps she had been acting with all her suitors. Her eyes were gleaming with wither fire or pain, or perhaps both. At that moment, something in his soul ached to hold her.

His heart softened in spite of himself. “Perhaps, I have been too hasty.”

She let her lips curl into a tight smile as she allowed the crushed petals float to the floor. “La, you have a conscience after all. I am overwhelmed. But have no worries. If I choose, I will speak to Stephen about my choice in a husband. My suitors will have to speak to him as well.” Her twittering laugh gave Marcus cause for alarm. “But if I choose to run off to Gretna Green, I shan’t be speaking to anyone but my intended.”

He stepped closer. “You would not dare! It would not be legal. Stephen is your guardian.”

Her gray eyes clashed with his. “I dare anything! You . . . you peagoose!” She poked a finger in his chest. “Don’t you tell me what to do! You underestimate me, sir! Stephen would have to agree if I ran off to Gretna. I would be ruined if he didn’t.”

Marcus grabbed her finger, yanking her against him. She smelled of lavender. Sweet and beautiful. Her eyes were blazing. Her chest was heaving. And her cheeks were red with life. Hell’s bells, this woman was anything but boring. She was life itself!

“Let me go, Marcus. I’m warning you . . .”

“One last kiss before we depart and go our separate ways.

She pushed at his chest. “No, thank you!”

“You little termagant.” And then he flattened his lips against hers, in a possessive kiss, wanting her to want him.

She pulled away, trembling. “How . . . how dare you?”

His brows lifted. She hadn’t kissed him back. “I am a Clearbrook. I dare anything.”

“Oh . . . you are nothing but a thief! A scoundrel! You . . . you rogue! I hate you. I hate you, hate you, hate you.” She let out a sob and ran for the door.

“Milli!”

She didn’t look back. “Don’t ever speak to me again! Or kiss me!”

Marcus stared back in shock as she turned the corner. What the devil had just happened?

Milli clasped her sister’s hand as they stood in Milli’s bedchambers, readying for dinner. By now, everyone in the family had been told about William Shelby’s murder.

Lizzie visibly trembled and her eyes teared up again. “I feel sick to my stomach. Papa was murdered, and we had no idea. Oh, Milli, how could someone be so cruel?”

Milli swallowed past the growing ache in her throat. “But they have found the villain, Lizzie. It is done. We must put this behind us. Papa would want it that way.”

Her sister sniffed and smoothed away a stray hair on Milli’s forehead. “Stephen told me everything. They thought the man could have been one of your suitors.”