The Wagered Bride (12 page)

Stephen
came up behind her and placed his hand on her arm. "I'm sorry you find
yourself backed into a corner, Miss Shelby. If there is anything I could
do—"

She
turned around so fast it took him off guard. "Do? Are you playing some
sort of hideous joke? Anything you could do? Have you not done enough? Why,
poor Lady Odette suffered terribly after you left! Do you have any kind of
conscience at all?"

Stephen
stiffened, mystified at her outburst. Was this little wren standing up for the
vulture that had clawed her heart out at breakfast the other day? Lady Odette
was a sly female, and he, for one, was glad he had discovered the truth in
time.

"I
do believe the lady in question will mend."

 "Oh,
I cannot believe you would do that to her!"

Stephen
blinked. What kind of thanks was this when he had pulled her out of a
disagreeable situation that morning? He had all but worshipped at Miss Shelby's
feet, and she was throwing it back at him as if he were nothing.

"She
offended you, madam. My future wife. How could I not?"

Shocked,
he watched her face turn a deep shade of purple. "I will never marry you.
Never!"

Stephen's
stunned gaze followed her backside as she swept from the room.

"Well,
well, what have we here?"

Milli
came to a dead stop. She had been dancing in the ballroom by herself,
pretending she was a beautiful ballerina when the most handsome man appeared
before her like a prince in a fairy tale. "Who are you?"

"Your
servant, Lord Marcus Clearbrook, mademoiselle. And you?"

"Miss
Millicent Shelby."

His
black brows lifted. "Ah, Miss Shelby. Your sister is going to marry my
brother, is she not?"

There
was something hard in his voice that set Milli's teeth on edge. "Elizabeth
is very pretty."

"Indeed."

"And
very smart."

"Indeed."

"And
very rich!"

His eyes
darkened. "Indeed," he drawled.

"Oh,
you think I am a child, but I'm not. I'm fourteen and going to be fifteen next
month."

His lips
curved into a mischievous grin. "Indeed. Well, little ballerina, when you
are out, may I ask you for a dance?"

Her
bottom lip trembled. He was making fun of her. "Indeed not! You are too
stuffy, by far. Why, you are nothing like your brother at all. He is everything
that is proper." She brushed past him and heard him chuckle.

"Good-bye,
my little ballerina. I will be looking forward to that dance in a few
years."

Before
he could say another word, she ran into the hall and disappeared.

"I
see you have met my sister," Elizabeth said, walking into the ballroom.

The man
turned. "I beg your pardon. You must be my brother's fiancée, Miss
Elizabeth Shelby. I'm Lord Marcus Clearbrook. You must know I never meant to
hurt the child."

Elizabeth
saw the guilt in his eyes and tried to reassure him. One never knew with Milli.
"Of course you didn't. I fear my family gave her too much freedom growing
up. My father was always away on business, and I was at a seminary for young
ladies in Bath and—" She stopped, realizing she was rambling. "How I
do go on. You must think me quite silly."

Lord
Marcus smiled. "Not at all. I must say, my brother did well to snatch you
from the pool of marriageable females."

Elizabeth
blushed. "You are too kind. If you would forgive me, I must see to
Milli."

Marcus
took her hand, bowed, and kissed the tip of her fingers. "Your servant,
madam."

At that
precise moment, Stephen stood covertly on the stairs, his dark gaze settling on
his brother.

After
Elizabeth departed, Marcus stepped out of the ballroom and lifted his gaze.
"Ah, Stephen, I daresay you are wondering what just took place here. You
should have made yourself known."

Stephen's
heels clapped down the stairs. "You kissed her hand is what took place.
And I also saw your gaze attached to her like one of those foxed dandies at
Prinny's last ball."

The
gleam in Marcus's eyes did nothing to alleviate Stephen's misgivings.

"She
is much prettier than you described. Those blue eyes pierced my heart like
cupid's arrow. You'd best be careful and not leave her to her own devices when
Mother starts dragging her to all the balls this Season. And if you somehow
disengage yourself from her, I would be very interested."

For not
the first time Stephen felt a spurt of jealousy toward a man who had paid his
attentions to Elizabeth. But this was Marcus. "Shut up, or I may have to
box you one."

The
light in Marcus's eyes turned dangerous. "If it comes to that, then I
suppose you want her after all. But I will be there if you discard her. By
Jove, you had me believing she was an ogress. I think she is the loveliest of
creatures, and if you dare jilt her, I will be the one boxing your ears."

His
words were said between clenched teeth as he turned down the hall, leaving
Stephen glaring at his back.

"I
think he loves her," Milli said in a somber tone as she came out of her
hiding place behind the gigantic Chinese urn near the bottom of the steps.

Stephen
glanced over his shoulder. "He does not love her. And I ought to take you
over my knee for eavesdropping."

Milli's
eyes rounded. "Pooh. You would do no such thing. But I hazard to say if
you found Elizabeth kissing Marcus back, you just might do that to her."

Stephen
let out an exasperated groan as the girl turned and fled down the hall in a
wake of lavender bouquet.

"Why
me?" he said to the urn.

"You
say something, Stephen?"

Stephen
looked up to see his brother-in-law starting down the stairs. "Say
something? No. It was the urn, you see. It gives advice to stupid, idiotic
rakes such as me."

"Ah,
I see. Hearing voices? Never one to give advice, but since you helped me in my
struggle to make off with your sister, I will give you a good piece of counsel
before you marry."

"And
what, pray tell, is that?"

"Stop
speaking to urns, you idiot. Down a few bottles at White's. Fall flat on your
face if you like, but don't go mad until after the ceremony. Take it from me,
until you get that ceremony over with, you never know what can befall an engagement.
I should know." Stonebridge's gaze sparkled with amusement.

"Très
amusant,"
Stephen said, retreating down the hall. "Sometimes I wonder why Emily
married you at all."

"She
loves me, Stephen. She loves me."

Stephen's
lips thinned as he turned the corner into the library. The trouble was, something
inside him wanted Elizabeth to love him, too, and if that wasn't more idiotic
than talking to an urn, he didn't know what was.

The sky
was overcast and a low rumble boomed in the distance as Elizabeth entered the
gardens behind the townhouse. She was at a loss as to Milli's whereabouts and
decided to look for the girl along the garden paths when she heard someone
sobbing.

She
quickly turned the corner and found herself standing over a handsomely dressed
woman sitting on a stone bench, holding one very fluffy white cat that looked
as if had been pampered every day of its fat little life.

"Forgive
me. I didn't mean to intrude."

Violet
blue eyes met Elizabeth's and the lady sniffed. "There is nothing to
forgive, my dear. Poor Egypt is dying."

Elizabeth
tilted her head toward the bench. "May I?"

The lady
nodded. "You must be Miss Shelby. I am Lady Bringston, Stephen's mother.
Forgive me for not greeting you, but my—" she sobbed, "my poor dear
is so listless, I cannot leave her. And I cannot see anyone, I am so filled
with grief."

Elizabeth
sat beside the older woman and petted the cat. She calmly made her own introductions
to the lady and continued to stroke the animal's soft fur. After a moment, she
pulled out a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and handed it to Stephen's
mother. "Your Grace."

"Thank
you, my dear." The lady blew her nose. "Never have one when I need
it, you know. And you do not have to bother saying 'Your Grace' with me. You
will be my daughter-in-law soon. Besides, I am Lady Bringston, a marchioness
now." Another sniff. "Oh, how I do wish my husband were here."

Elizabeth
didn't know quite what to say. "I find having a handkerchief on one's
person at all times comes in very handy."

The lady
smiled. "You are so very right, my dear. I knew my Stephen would not
choose some insipid girl to be his wife."

No, he
chose some insipid girl with money.

Feeling
her heart clench, Elizabeth avoided the lady's intent gaze and turned her attention
toward Egypt.

"May
I take a look at your cat? I have had some experience with animals. Perhaps I
could help."

The
lady's gaze looked hopeful. Thunder boomed in the distance. "You have?
Well, my dear, take her." She set the cat in Elizabeth's lap. "Egypt
is the most darling of creatures. If Bringston were here, he would know what to
do."

"He
knows about animals?" Elizabeth asked, as she stroked Egypt and poked at
the feline's body checking for any signs of disease.

"Yes,
and a dear he is. I should have traveled with him to his estates and to see his
mother, but, oh she is so jealous of me, you see, I refused. What a goosecap I
was ...."

Elizabeth
felt Egypt's stomach and smiled.

Stephen
stepped into the gardens, searching for his mother. It had been hours since he
had seen her. He wanted to tell her about Egypt. A servant mentioned she had
ventured outside. The wind had picked up and the clouds were beginning to
groan.

A slight
sprinkle of rain hit his face and he wiped it away with his hand. A woman's
excited shout stabbed the air and he spun to his left, only to see his mother
standing half outside the door to the kitchen, her body assaulted by a strong
gust of wind, plastering her skirts against her legs.

"Mother,"
he said, striding toward her.

"Oh,
Stephen. Is she not wonderful?" His mother threw out her arms and hugged
him, squeezing him so hard he stepped back and took hold of her shoulders.

"Who?"
His mother had been missing Bringston so much perhaps she had snapped.

For
years after his father's death Stephen had tried to comfort his mother. She had
loved the duke and when he had died, she had fallen apart.

But
Stephen could never forgive his father for not loving this woman. And that made
Stephen's own situation more difficult. He was going to have to marry a woman
who did not love him. Yet at this point, he had no idea exactly what he felt
for Miss Shelby. It was an insufferable situation.

"Why,
your dear Elizabeth," his mother answered as the rain fell lightly against
her pale cheeks. "You are marrying the sweetest girl on the face of this
earth—besides your sister, of course."

Stephen
stood, dumbfounded.

"Come,
take a look." His mother dragged him out of the rain and into the kitchen.
"Are they not beautiful?"

Stephen's
stunned gaze shifted to the corner of the room. There sat Egypt, licking her
litter of four tiny kittens. No, it was five, including one little ball off to
the side.

Kneeling
on the floor was Elizabeth, her gown damp and dirty from whatever ministrations
she had to deliver. Her spectacles were on the table, resting beside a crumpled
handkerchief.

Stephen's
stomach clenched at the sight. The lady was enchanting. Unaware he was
watching, she picked up the stray kitten and pressed it against her cheek.

"There
now. You'll be safe and warm with your mama. You've had a harrowing day, but
all is well, my sweet."

Stephen
felt another spurt of jealousy. He knew instantly that Elizabeth Shelby would
make a fantastic mother. His heart gave a kick and he could not take his eyes
off her.

Then he
saw the most incredible thing. His mother, who was known to be quite fastidious,
knelt down beside Elizabeth and started talking to the kittens.

"You
vexatious creatures. What a scare you gave me." She picked up a wet ball
of fur and turned. "Come here, Stephen."

Elizabeth
glanced over her shoulder and a blush swept across her face as she took in her
own appearance. "Oh!"

"La,
my dear, Stephen does not care a whit what you look like. He loves you."
The lady smiled dreamily. "Love is what truly matters in marriage. And I
have found it with Bringston."

Elizabeth
eyed Stephen with such horror he felt about an inch high. It was obvious she
was thinking about what his mother had said and she quickly dropped her gaze.
"I must ready myself for dinner."