The Perfect Bride (13 page)

Would
Julian reclaim Miss Fitzhugh? Would the erstwhile lovers slip through the
castle corridors at night to sample new pleasures in each other's arms?

A
sound very like a growl rumbled deep in Simon's throat and emerged as a muttered
profanity that caught him by surprise.

***

"This
is excellent. I declare, Mortimer, our tenant's thoughts are warming even this
drafty tower."

"Claridge
was a master stroke, Isabella."

"I
had naught to do with it, but I am delighted just the same."

"Do
you not think Edward is different tonight, my dear?"

"Perhaps
you are right. He seems more alert. I hope he does not decide to interfere in
our plan."

"Your
plan, Isabella. I do not presume to have your cunning and skill."

"But
you have something else, Mortimer — loyalty. I do not know where I would be
without that."

"Sleeping
the peaceful rest of the dead, I imagine."

"If
only we can make an eternity of damnation more pleasurable, I should not mind
so much being in our cursed state."

"If
anyone can make damnation pleasurable, it is you, Isabella."

"Thank
you, Mortimer. You are the only one who truly understands me."

CHAPTER NINE

"You
have changed, Amanda."

So
unexpected were the words whispered in her ear that Amanda whirled to face the
Duke of Claridge in all his dark glory. And swayed alarmingly on her crutches.

They
were alone. Sir Thomas and Lord Sommersby had gone riding, while Felicity had
traipsed off to the earl's library to find yet another book of poems. Amanda
had thought to spend the morning in her room resting her ankle, but it was too
fine a day. Venturing beyond the confines of the oppressive stone walls, she
had found a serene meadow that was just beginning to waken to spring. She had
managed the walk well enough, despite her crutches.

"I
do not know whether to be insulted or pleased by the fact that you did not
anticipate my presence just now," Julian drawled.

"Neither,
I trust," Amanda said. “It is merely a fact that I do not think of you at
all.”

"Then
I shall simply thank my good fortune to find you alone and in such an ideal
setting for intimate conversation," he said with a smile that once would
have set her pulse to racing.

She
eyed him warily. "I cannot think that we have any reason to converse
intimately after all this time."

"Do
you not?" Coal black eyes studied her. "Did you think I would make my
bow last night and not exchange another word with you for the duration of my
visit?"

"No,"
she conceded. "But I do not think our situation requires any private
discussion."

"I
remember a time when the opportunity for private discussion interested you a
great deal."

Amanda
flushed. "That was long ago. I am twenty and eight now, Your Grace."

"You
used to call me by my given name," he said softly. "Is it so
difficult to say?"

"I
see no need to return to the familiarity of our former relationship."

He
ran a fingertip along one of the crutches. "No, I suppose you would not.
Amanda Fitzhugh does not easily forgive."

"Forgive?"
She eyed him in astonishment. "Is that in the nature of an apology, sir?
Truly, I may faint dead away of shock."

His
mouth twitched. "You wound me, madam. You were nothing if not receptive to
my attentions. If you would examine your own behavior, you would see how little
there was in mine to give offense."

Amanda's
eyes flashed. "You were a man of the world, and I an innocent. You played
on my innocence, as if I were some...musical instrument."

His
lips curled provocatively. "A very fine instrument, I should say."

"You
are incorrigible."

"I
expect so," he replied with a lazy smile. "Come, now, Amanda. I
freely admit that I led you quite literally down the garden path, seduction
uppermost in my mind, ready to overcome any objections you might offer. My only
regret about that evening is that Sir Thomas was not otherwise engaged. We
encountered him at a rather inopportune moment, as I recall."

"My
regrets are rather more numerous, sir," Amanda said.

He
touched her shoulder. “Let us have done with the recriminations. I accept full
blame for what happened, for ruining your life, if that is what I did, though I
think not. But you threw a mantle of nobility over me that I did not and never
have possessed."

His
tone was bitter. His eyes darkened, as if they had gazed inward and witnessed
something repugnant. For the first time, Amanda realized the depths of Julian’s
inner torment, and that whatever the cause, his anguish had nothing to do with
her.

"You
did not ruin my life," she replied, surprised to realize the truth of that
statement.

Julian’s
gaze grew speculative. "You have indeed changed, Amanda. You see more with
those eyes of yours now. And though I must bear the brunt of your anger, I
confess that I find your maturity appealing. You may dress like a spinster at
her last prayers, my dear, but you are not missish. And if I had a hand in
that, it was all to the good."

He
had changed, too. There was a vulnerability in that black gaze. What most
surprised her, however, was the fact that her deepest regret was having allowed
that long-ago disaster to carry so much power for so long. Even though no one
but the Biddles had known of her near-disgrace eight years ago, she had allowed
it to become the defining event of her womanhood.

Amanda
took a deep, calming breath, taking in the scent of the burgeoning spring
growth around her, savoring the fact that there was so very much more to life
than the past.

"You
are incorrigible, Julian," she said, almost cheerfully. "But I have
mastered my passions in my old age, and there is nothing you can say that will
undermine my resolve."

“Now
that is a gauntlet I cannot ignore.” Julian did not bother to veil the hunger
that leapt to his eyes. "Words are not my strong suit, Amanda. I prefer to
let my actions speak for themselves."

Too
late, Amanda read his intention as he closed the distance between them. His
kiss was expertly provocative, gently insistent, slyly demanding — and failed
to increase her pulse even slightly. She did not stop him, rather enjoying the
feeling of not being carried away. When at last he released her, Amanda gave a
sigh of relief as she opened her eyes and realized that the earth had not moved
from its axis.

Until
she saw the man who stood a few feet away.

"Lord
Sommersby!" She took a hasty step backward and promptly lost her balance
as her crutches caught on a rough patch of ground. Were it not for Julian's quick
action — he caught her and pulled her tight against his chest — she would have
fallen.

The
earl regarded them with an unreadable gaze. Amanda blushed in mortification.
There was nothing she could say to explain what he had seen that would not make
matters worse. Julian, however, had no such scruples.

"Amanda
and I were renewing our old acquaintance," he said with a mischievous
smile, ignoring the furious look she shot him when he held onto her rather
longer than necessary. The steadying hand he kept at her waist as he reached
down for her crutches might have been chivalry in another man, but in Julian it
was sheer arrogance. “It was my pleasure to rescue her from what, by all
appearances, was a rather boring walk in your meadow.”

"Since
you have other business here," Lord Sommersby replied evenly, "it
will not be necessary for you to concern yourself with Miss Fitzhugh's
entertainment, which is my responsibility as her host."

Julian
handed Amanda her crutches. "I have never found entertaining Amanda to be other
than a pleasure," he drawled.

Amanda
blamed herself for the awkwardness in which they all found themselves. She
should not have tolerated Julian’s kiss. He had not forced himself on her; she
could have ended straight away. She’d been so caught up in the knowledge that
he no longer had any effect on her senses, that she had forgotten that they
were in an open field, where anyone could see them. Being firmly on the shelf
did not leave one immune to disgrace.

She
did not look at Lord Sommersby.

"My
cousin Thornton is expected back soon from a business errand,” she heard him
tell Julian. “I have charged him with the honor of escorting Miss Fitzhugh, a
privilege he accepted with alacrity. You need not trouble yourself
further."

Thornton
.

Amanda
had not thought to see that drooping mustache and enigmatic gaze again.
Unaccountably, her spirits lightened.

Lord
Sommersby looked strangely stunned, however, as if his announcement of his
cousin's pending arrival surprised him as much as it did her.

***

Miss
Fitzhugh had to be protected from Claridge. Bringing back Thornton would enable
Simon to do so without appearing to give her a degree of attention inappropriate
for a newly betrothed man. Simon had thought her quite mature and level-headed,
now immune to such men — until he’d stumbled on that prolonged kiss in the
meadow. That had been a revelation. Who would have imagined that Miss Biddle’s
prim chaperon could still succumb to the charms of a man like Julian?  

"Have
the birds been nesting in this wig?" Simon demanded as Jeffers combed out
the grey mop.

Stifling
a sigh at his employer's sharp tone, Jeffers attempted to discipline the wig.
Simon surveyed the results with a critical eye.

"Better,
but it still looks as if I have only a passing acquaintance with a comb and
brush. See if you can do something with the mustache."

Simon
had been out of sorts since discovering Miss Fitzhugh and Julian together. To be
sure, his own interest in her was purely paternal. It was his duty to protect
her. She was not up to dealing with one of the most notorious rakes in all
England. As Thornton he could make certain she did not reinjure her ankle and,
above all, keep her free of Julian's talons.

Simon
had no doubt that, if applied to forcefully, Julian would endeavor to be on his
best behavior with Miss Fitzhugh. But he seriously doubted whether Julian's
best behavior was anything praiseworthy. The man's predatory wiles were embedded
in his nature.

Miss
Fitzhugh needed him. The shock of seeing her in Julian's arms had prompted the
sudden, brilliant notion of bringing back Thornton to attend her. To be sure,
switching back and forth from Sommersby to Thornton would require some effort
on his part. Perhaps he could invent some urgent business to call Sommersby
away. There was no need for his presence anyway, since the matter of his future
bride had been taken care of.

Jeffers
fussed over the brown dimity suit, then stepped back to nod in satisfaction.
Studying his reflection in the mirror, Simon decided that the somber maturity
Thornton's extra years imparted was just the thing for this mission. Miss
Fitzhugh would never guess he was not the earl's dull secretary, with ample
years on his plate and a sober mind in his brainbox.

Simon
allowed himself a smile. He had everything under control. Miss Fitzhugh would
suffer no indignity while under his roof.

With
a sense of freedom he had not felt in days, Simon descended the stairs in search
of his guests.

***

"It
is too bad Lord Sommersby found it necessary to investigate the disturbance
himself."

Sir
Thomas nodded absently at Felicity's comment. "A man cannot be too careful
in these times. A disturbance can turn into a riot overnight. The earl was
right to see to the matter himself. Those Luddites wreaked havoc a few years
ago. Who knows how far this new rabble might take things?"

"I
did not know Lord Sommersby owned a mill," Felicity  said.

"The
earl owns property all over England," Sir Thomas said, admiration in his
voice. "Rich as the devil he is, and very generous with the settlements,
too." He cocked his head consideringly. "Now that matters are settled
between you, perhaps we should return to Mayfield early. Your mother will be
thrilled to hear that her hopes for you are to be realized."

Felicity
pondered this suggestion. "But the earl was quite clear that he would
return soon," she said. "And I am so enjoying exploring his library.
Would it not be rude to return to Mayfield so soon, when he has extended his
hospitality to us for the fortnight?"

"Surely
he would understand your wish to share the good news with your mama," Sir
Thomas replied. "I would like to see her face when I tell her that you are
to receive twenty thousand pounds in pin money."

A
mischievous grin spread over Felicity's lovely mouth. "Perhaps she would
even wish to come to London to help me spend it. I should like to see Dr.
Greenfield's face when his prize patient flies off to the mantua-maker against
his express orders."