The Runaway Countess (45 page)

Oh, bother.

To save herself from embarrassment, she focused on a point over his shoulder.

“I know you are doing this for Sebastian.”

“Indeed?”

Even without seeing his expression, she knew he had raised one eyebrow. The condescension was easy to hear. But she would know even without that. She knew everything about him. His moods, his expressions, his faults, and even knowing all of that, she still loved him. Or had. Her fantasy had been shattered when she had made it to town. Then she had realized that the façade she had believed in never truly existed. But that was just one of many fumbles she had made in her first years in town.

She brushed her thoughts aside and concentrated on finishing the dance.

“Your brother is worried.”

Of course, how could she forget? He would never ask her to dance if her brother had not asked him to.

She huffed out a sigh. “He has become a worrywart.”

Daniel laughed. It was a sound she did not hear often anymore and even as she cursed it, her heart warmed at the sound. “Yes. I will say from the moment he married, your brother changed.”

She glanced up at him sharply, studying his features. “But for the better.”

He looked down at her and the breath tangled in her throat. She could not help it. His pretty looks were renowned in the ton. She had known even before coming to town that women were drawn to him. Thick light brown hair, those dark golden brown eyes with thick, dark lashes, not to mention his calculating wit and solid physique, attracted most women. Unfortunately, she had been one of those women and it did not seem she had freed herself of the affliction.

“Agreed. I would never have thought it, but Sebastian definitely flourishes in the realm of married life.”

“I assumed that is why you were made to dance attendance tonight.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I understood from my mother that your mother wants you to settle down.”

He grimaced and she laughed. Her brother had worn that look more than once before meeting Colleen.

“Yes. My mother rang peal over me again claiming I am a doddering old fool who must marry.”

“The problem would be finding a woman who would marry you.”

He smiled and she tried to ignore the way her heart skipped.

“True. But my mother assures me there is any number of young ladies who would be interested.”

Her heart squeezed at the thought of him marrying some debutant. She knew it would come to this one day. He would have to marry, being the only son. But still, there was a twinge of pain when she thought of him marrying some faceless, brainless debutant.

“Ow.”

She realized she was squeezing his hand. “Do forgive me.”

“I am assuming you are here for the same reason?”

She snorted at the suggestion. “I think not. Mother thought it important that I attend, being family. Apparently, Cicely still worries about being accepted within certain circles.”

“I daresay she will never have a problem, especially with the title of duchess and after providing the duke with an heir.”

Anna nodded and glanced fleetingly at her cousin. Three years earlier, the radiant beauty had been a wallflower more comfortable with her books than people. Falling in love with Douglas had changed that, although she was the same sweet woman.

“We know that, but Cicely does not. You understand.”

He did of course because Daniel was as close as family, closer in a lot of ways that most of the ton did not know. He knew the rumors about Cicely, knew the truth of them. She knew there was not much her brother did not share with him.

“Your mother used that to get you out tonight?”

She made a face. “Partially, because she knows I would do anything to help my cousins. She also thinks that my choice in activities is not good.”

“I have to disagree.”

That surprised her and some of what she thought must have shown on her face.

“Why do you look so astonished?”

“You disagree with my mother?”

He inclined his head. “While I am not sure exactly what they are, your brother said something about the orphanage? You enjoy it. You do good work knowing you. I have to admire that.”

A warm glow of excitement rolled through her. Most of the men of their class thought of her activity as a waste of time. Only her brother and sister-in-law seemed to think it a worthy cause.

“Still, I can also understand your mother wanting you to get married. Can you not continue your activities and be married?”

She shook her head. “Some men might not have a problem with it. That is not what holds me back. I decided three years ago that I would not marry. It isn’t for me.”

The music ended. They stopped dancing but Daniel did not release her. The world fell away, the chattering debutants, the clink of glasses, even the people who stepped around them to leave the dance floor. Heat gathered in her tummy as she stared up into his eyes. Something changed, darkened the gold. She felt the need to move away from that look, from her own need to believe in it, but at the same time, she wanted to step closer, feel his arms wrap around her, pulling her against his body. Every bit of moisture dried up in her mouth as her breasts grew heavy. He stepped closer, leaning his head closer to hers.

“The music is done, Bridgerton. Move along.”

Lord Smythe’s nasty voice sliced through the spell they both seemed to have fallen under. Daniel dropped her hand and stepped away. The look he shot Smythe probably would have made most men run away in terror…and Smythe practically did that as he scurried off the floor with his dance partner. Daniel drew in a deep breath and offered her his arm. Tentatively, she placed her hand on it. Daniel easily guided her through the crowd back to their mothers and the gaggle of men who seemed destined to irritate her. Daniel bowed over her hand.

“Thank you for the dance, Lady Anna,” he said, his voice deepening on her name. Wet heat slid through her.

She nodded but could say nothing. Her mind was still spinning, her body yearning to be near him again. He turned quickly, but not before she saw him give both their mothers an almost imperceptible nod.

A sharp shard of pain pricked her heart. She had known that he had been doing it as a favor to her brother, but seeing him acknowledge it in front of her was humiliating. No one else seemed to notice as the conversation flowed around her. She smiled and pretended to listen to the men. But really, how could she pay attention to men who talked more of themselves than anyone or anything else. Surreptitiously, she watched Daniel as he made his way through the crowd, smiling and greeting acquaintances.

Double trouble—with a twist.

The Scarred Heir

© 2012 Denise Patrick

Two months. Just two more months and Sarah Standish will be twenty-one and free to come out of hiding. Not long ago she was on the brink of marrying the man of her dreams—until she discovered his complicity with her uncle’s plan to gain control of her missing father’s substantial fortune.

A wounded man appears at the inn where she lives under an assumed name, and she’s shocked to discover it’s her would-be groom. He seems to have no memory of her, yet her traitorous heart remembers.

Max Dayton awakens from a fevered dream to find a vengeful angel hovering over him. When he realizes she’s mistaken him for his twin brother, his protective instincts kick in. There must be some reason his brother assumed Max’s identity…and some connection to this dazzling beauty and the father she insists is not dead.

In a quest to untangle the twisted trail of lies that threw them together, Sarah and Max journey to London, where the mystery grows darker and deeper. And the fragile beginnings of love are threatened by a secret someone would kill to keep.

Warning: Contains a war hero, runaway bride, jealous twin, greedy uncle, and a good reason to check names before proceeding. At least the dog knows who is who.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
The Scarred Heir:

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together…”

Sarah Standish stood silent beside Viscount Royden as the cleric droned on, allowing herself to dream of the freedom she hoped tomorrow would bring.

Despite its location in a less than desirable part of town, the tiny church was packed. Too many had come out of curiosity, and most were friends of her aunt and uncle. That meant none were friends of hers.

The past four months had become the stuff of nightmares and she heartily wished she’d elected to stay at Statler Hall instead of returning to London after the summer. But her father had wanted her to enjoy herself in his absence, and his sister had been willing to act as chaperone. She should have known there might be a catch.

She remained silent when the vicar addressed them both with, “…if either of you know any impediment, why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony…” There was no use protesting now. She’d made her wishes known and they had been ignored.

Royden’s stentorian “I will” shook her from her thoughts as the vicar turned to her.

“Wilt thou, Sarah Jane Jessie Matilda Elizabeth, have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

She grimaced at the string of names. She hadn’t been listening when he’d given Royden’s names. She only knew at least one of his Christian names was David.

Silence fell and the vicar looked at her quizzically. Royden glanced her way too, and she noticed a small smile playing about his lips. She nearly sighed. He truly was handsome, with a face a girl could dream about forever. When he first began paying court to her, she’d been flattered and a little giddy. Being honest with herself, she could admit she still liked him. If she hadn’t discovered he was in league with her uncle, she might have willingly married him. It was unfortunate that such a decorated war hero was so devious inside.

“No.” Nervousness caused her to say it louder than she meant. Beside her, Royden stiffened.

“Who giveth this… I beg your pardon,” the vicar stuttered. Flustered, he peered at her and asked, “Did you just say no?”

“I did.”

Whispers started behind her. She could feel the tension in the small space. Waves of fury rolled off the man standing beside her, nearly knocking her off her feet. Someone grabbed her from behind and she was spun around to face her uncle.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded, his face contorted with rage. “I told you none of your tricks today.”

She pushed the veil off her face. “I think I spoke loud enough for everyone to hear.”

“How dare you, you ungrateful girl!” Her aunt’s shrill voice joined her husband’s.

She stepped back, only to find her way blocked by her erstwhile groom. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the vicar back away from them. Coward. The whispers of the congregation had risen to a dull roar and many were standing to get a better view of what was happening.

She could remind them that she’d said she wouldn’t marry Lord Royden, and they’d ignored her protests. But it would fall on deaf ears. Remaining silent was her best option.

The first blow caught her unawares. She’d underestimated her uncle again, assuming he wouldn’t resort to violence in a church. Dark spots floated before her eyes and she swayed on her feet, automatically raising her hands for protection. Shoving her bouquet into her uncle’s face, she tried to push past her aunt. Unfortunately, Royden was standing on the train of her gown and, short of having it ripped from her body, she couldn’t move.

Another blow caught her on the side of the head. Someone screamed as she crumpled to the floor.

Pandemonium erupted.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she felt a kick to her head, thankfully cushioned by her coiffure and veil. Another kick was aimed at her back. With her uncle standing before her, she could only surmise her aunt was responsible for the kicks.

“Here now, m’lord. This is God’s House.” Was that the vicar’s voice? Sarah couldn’t be certain, but she felt the change in atmosphere immediately.

Her upper arm was gripped by a punishing hand and she was yanked to her feet. Her gown ripped. Turning, she surprised Royden with a hard push to his chest which caused him to step back, off her gown. Grabbing her skirts, she broke free and ran. Through the vestry and out the back door.

Shouts of “Stop her!” followed, but she kept running. The church wasn’t in the worst part of London, but it certainly wasn’t St. George’s. She turned a corner then another, and another, finally getting her bearings and finding what she was searching for.

The hackney stood exactly where she expected it to be and, as she ran toward it, the driver scrambled down and opened the door.

“Oh, my lady!” Betsy cried at the first sight of her. “What did they do to ye?”

“Nothing I shouldn’t have expected,” she replied as the hackney began to move. “Quick, help me out of this gown.”