Blast and damn! Greg had managed, just barely, not to curse inside the hallowed walls of St. George’s, but just barely. With the number of weddings and two funerals being performed that afternoon, they simply could not fit another service into the schedule.

“Is Mr. Bailey in?” Cordie asked, sounding like the voice of reason. She knew the rector fairly well and she must think she could convince the man to squeeze in one more wedding that day. After all, what was one more tiny wedding? They didn’t need an entire sermon, just a few moments to repeat their vows.

“I’m afraid not, my lady,” the rector’s assistant said with a frown. “His mother took ill and he’s gone to Sussex to see about her. We are short manned today, but he’ll be back in the morning, I can schedule an appointment for you to see him tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“And you’re certain no one else would be able to marry my brother this afternoon?” She actually batted her lashes at the man. Unfortunately, her flirting had no effect on the rector’s assistant.

“I am sorry, Lady Clayworth, the schedule is booked. But I can make certain Mr. Bailey sees you in the morning.”

A muscle ticked in Greg’s jaw, though his unease was smoothed away when Bella softly squeezed his hand. He released the breath he was holding. After all, he didn’t really have a choice, did he? “Very well,” he said. “We would like his earliest appointment.”

“Ten o’clock it is, my lord.”

As Greg turned on his heel to lead his little merry band out of St. George’s, his sister said from behind him. “One day isn’t so long.”

“Says the woman who raced to Scotland,” he muttered under his breath.

“I heard that, Gregory Avery.”

Greg glanced back over his shoulder at his sister and quirked her a grin. “I meant for you to, Cordelia Clayworth.”

Cordie rolled her eyes. “Since we’re out and about anyway, we should head over to the museum after all, don’t you think?”

“Elgin’s marbles?” Greg asked.

His sister nodded eagerly. “Everyone’s gushing over them.”

And they were already out. Greg sighed and glanced down at Bella by his side. “Would you like that?”

His raven-haired beauty smiled up at him. “I don’t imagine you have amazing art museums in Notthinghamshire?”

Hardly. Greg couldn’t help but laugh at the suggestion. “You should get your fill while we’re in Town, I suppose.”

* * *

Across the coach, Bella couldn’t help but smile at the obvious love and affection between Lord and Lady Clayworth. Just the way the earl looked at his wife was mesmerizing. His midnight blue eyes softened, and there was a hint of a smile meant only for the countess. Complete and total adoration radiated between them. They had been a love match, something more than a fairytale, Lissy had said; and a tiny ping of jealousy pierced Bella’s heart. Though to want for more than she had would be unseemly. She did, after all, have more than most. Besides, she loved Greg, and it was always possible that someday he could love her just the same way Lord Clayworth loved his wife, wasn’t it?

He’d said he thought he was too scarred, but Greg certainly kissed her with a fervor that made Bella’s toes curl. And the way he’d touched her, the way he’d made her feel… Well, it was a very good sign for their future that he wanted to marry her so quickly, wasn’t it? It was such a shame St. George’s was so busy and that Mr. Bailey was not in his church today. But tomorrow…

“Oh, Greg,” Cordie began, looking across the coach at her brother. “I forgot to tell you. I received a letter from Eleanor today.”

Greg’s eyes widened slightly. “Is mother driving her mad already?”

“Probably,” Cordie agreed with a laugh. “But she didn’t say as much.” She shook her head. “She and Hutchinson are preparing to send Bradley back to England for Harrow and she was hoping you and Brendan could be counted upon to keep an eye on him and on his studies.”

Greg’s brow creased just a bit. “I already offered to do so when she agreed to let Mother stay with them for a while. Figured it was the least I could do.”

Cordie shrugged. “I’m sure she’s simply nervous about the idea of being so far away from her son. I know I would be if it was me.”

“We have a long time before that day comes for us,” Lord Clayworth said softly, which earned him a beatific smile from his wife.

“Thank heavens.” Then Cordie glanced across the coach at Bella and Prissa and explained, “Our sister Eleanor and her family are in Tuscany.”

“For the time being,” Greg said. “Though they’re still bound for Vienna by the end of the year, are they not?”

“She hasn’t said otherwise,” his sister replied just as the coach rambled to a stop.

Out the window, stood the British Museum and Bella’s heart sped up a bit. She loved the museum. A few years ago, she could have made it a second home, quite happily so. How odd it was going to be, living in Nottinghamshire without the art and culture she was so accustomed to having nearby. She felt Greg’s eyes on her and she looked up at him to find a twinkle in his green gaze. Her belly flipped. All right, she could live without the British Museum.

The Clayworth footman opened the door and the earl exited first before assisting his wife from the conveyance. Greg followed the pair, offering his hand to Prissa and then to Bella.

My lady,” he said softly and tingles raced through her as his hand closed around hers. Greg gestured toward the museum entrance and said, “I’ll wager someday an Arabella Avery will hang from one of those walls.”

Bella’s cheeks stung from the compliment, though he had nothing to base his words on. “You haven’t even seen anything I’ve completed.”

“Whose fault is that?” he teased. “You should paint faster.”

“Someone keeps distracting me.”

“Someone can’t help himself,” he said and those tingles rushed through her once more.

“She’s brilliant,” Prissa gushed. “The most talented artist in all of England.” And then her sister’s eyes rounded slightly. “I-I mean, I’m certain you’re a brilliant artist too,” she said to Greg. “I didn’t mean—”

“Your loyalty to your sister is very sweet,” A ghost of a smile tipped Greg’s lips. He didn’t, after all, have an artistic bone in his body, but her sister had, of course, been told otherwise. Bella supposed all of that would eventually come out, but today wasn’t the day for such revelations.

“And I must agree with your original assessment,” Greg continued. “Bella is a much better artist than I am.”

Prissa grinned up at him. “Your loyalty to my sister is also very sweet, my lord. She is quite lucky to have you.”

“Ah, I think we’re lucky to have each other,” Greg replied as he winked at Bella and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. “Shall we go pick out the spot where they’ll hang your favorite piece?”

Bella couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. “Your sister wants to see the marbles,” she reminded him.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Greg pretended to grumble. Then he glanced back at his sister and her husband. “Do lead on, Cordie. This was your idea.”

The countess tipped back her head with a regal air as she and her earl stepped inside the museum. Bella, Greg and Prissa followed right behind them. They made their way, the five of them past the grand staircase and through a couple of galleries when a rather surprising figure seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Bella had never met the Marquess of Haversham, but she had seen him from afar and the stories people told of the man…well, they could make even the most adventurous libertine quake just a bit, she was certain.

“My dear Lord Haversham!” Cordie said, affection evident in her voice. “What a pleasant surprise to see you here.”

Bella knew the earl and countess counted themselves amongst the marquess’ friends, but it was still difficult to believe. The Clayworths seemed so upstanding, so respectable.

“Do you think me an uncultured boor?” Haversham kissed Cordie’s cheek in greeting.

“You know better than that.” She grinned up at him.

Then the scandalous marquess offered his hand to Clayworth. “Always good to see you, my friend.”

Cordie quickly introduced the marquess to the rest of them. “You know Gregory, of course.” Then she waved her hand toward Bella and Prissa. “And his betrothed Lady Arabella and her sister Lady Priscilla.”

“Charmed,” the man replied before turning his attention back to the earl and countess. “But what I’ve been wondering for some time is who that scowling fellow is that’s been following you?”

Someone had been following them? Bella glanced behind them and…Goodness! What in the world was Johann doing there?

Her cousin was toward the far side of the gallery, his large arms folded across his chest, and he was glaring quite angrily in her direction. A feeling of doom washed over her.

“I’ve never seen him before,” Cordie muttered softly.

“He’s our cousin,” Bella said, as her stomach twisted in a knot. “Johann van Guttstadt, the Count of Hellsburg.”

“What an unfortunate name,” the marquess drawled.

“That is Hellsburg?” Greg asked, tightening his hold on Bella’s arm. “Why didn’t you tell me he’d arrived in Town?”

So much had happened since Johann had arrived – all of the awfulness with Elliott and then Greg wanting to marry her in earnest. Honestly, she’d been quite distracted whenever she and Greg were together, she hadn’t given Johann any thought at all. “He’s only been here a couple of days, Greg, and—”

“He’s been following us?” Prissa asked, touching a hand to her heart.

“Since you arrived at St. George’s,” Haversham replied. “I thought he was with you at first until it became obvious none of you had seen him.” He shrugged slightly as he added, “I thought it best to follow you myself and make certain you were all right.”

“Why do I have the feeling that something is going on that I don’t know about?” Clayworth muttered, glancing toward his wife.

“Well, I’ve certainly never seen him before, Brendan.”

“That did not answer my question, love.”

“Marc,” Cordie stared up at Haversham. “Has he done anything else? Talked to anyone or—”

“He’s just scowling unhappily at your pretty young friends here, but nothing nefarious.” He shook his head. “But I don’t like the look of him, to be honest though, Cordie.”

Who would have ever thought the Marquess of Haversham was such a good judge of character? Perhaps it came from rubbing elbows with the wrong sort his whole life. Before Bella could think more on that, however, Greg had released his hold on her and was stalking toward Johann.

“Oh my goodness!” Bella’s heart pounded. What in the world was Greg doing?

* * *

Odds were Greg would be banned for life from the museum if he knocked Hellsburg onto his arse in the middle of the portrait gallery. He thought it might be worth it, however. Anger rushed through his veins as he neared the man who was at least a head taller than himself, and Greg wasn’t short by any stretch of the imagination. Even so, he’d have surprise on his side, and he had no doubt he could level the Prussian right then and there amongst the portraits and busts that lined the gallery walls. Why the devil was he following them around Town?

“Hellsburg, are you?” he growled upon reaching the enormous blond man. And while he didn’t agree with Haversham on much, he didn’t like the look of the Prussian either.

“Avery, I take it?” the man countered, his foreign accent sounding harsh to Greg’s ears.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

The man’s light eyes rounded slightly, but he shook his head innocently. “Taking in the sights.” Then he waved in the direction of Bella and the others. “You?”

Taking in the sights? Clearly, the man had no idea that Greg knew he’d followed them from the church. “St. George’s and the museum?” he asked. “Would you like the rest of our itinerary for the day in case we lose you somehow?”

A tiny smirk settled on the man’s lips. “What exactly were you doing at that church?”

“That is none of your concern.”

Hellsburg shrugged. “It is my Grandfather’s concern.”

Had Chatham set the Prussian on them? Greg wouldn’t put it past the duke. Though to what end? “He’s having you spy on your cousins?”

“She’s not for you,” Hellsburg said, scowling once again at Greg.

“Arabella?” Greg lifted his brow in question as fury began to pound through his veins. “As she is my betrothed, I would say she is very much for me.”

“You can have the other one if you’d like. She’s of no consequence to me.”

Greg snorted and the itch to knock the Prussian on his arse was growing by the second. What an obnoxious thing to say. “Arabella is of no consequence to you. She is my betrothed. And you will keep your distance from her.”

At that, a broad and mirthless smile spread across the man’s face. “We are living in the same house, Avery. It’s just a matter of time before I take her from you.”

The arrogance of the man. Greg scoffed. “If she’d wanted you, she wouldn’t be betrothed to me.”

Hellsburg shook his head. “Her wants mean nothing. She’s intended for me. That’s what my grandfather wants, and he always gets his way.”

“Not this time,” Greg growled.

“Time will tell.”

Indeed, it would. If that damned rector had been in Town, Bella would already be his wife. Tomorrow morning couldn’t come soon enough. “Leave Arabella alone.”

The man smirked once more and tipped his beaver hat in the direction of his cousins. Then he turned on his heel and strode back through the portrait gallery without even a glance back over his shoulder.

“What is going on, Avery?” came an unfortunate voice behind Greg.

Annoyed, he turned around and narrowed his eyes on his brother-in-law, who was not as upstanding as he pretended to be. “It’s none of your concern.”

“If that man is following my wife it concerns me.”

Greg shook his head. “Cordie has nothing to worry about from him. And neither do you.” Then he started back toward the women and that damned Haversham.

“Greg.” Bella released a staggered breath as she reached her hand out to him. “What did he say?”

Nothing Greg was going to repeat. There was no reason to upset her. As soon as he accepted her hand, that familiar calmness that always came from touching her washed back over him.

“You’re shaking,” she said softly, only loud enough for him to hear. Her silvery eyes bore into his, such concern, such…God in heaven, was that love he saw reflected back in her depths? Greg’s mouth went a little dry at the thought. There was something between them. He’d known that from almost the beginning, but love…

“The man is infuriating,” he muttered.

“Do you want to leave?” she asked.

Leaving would solve nothing. So Greg shook his head. “Not after all the talk of Elgin’s Marbles.” He feigned a smile for her benefit. “And we haven’t picked out the spot where one of your paintings will hang yet.”

That smile of hers that he couldn’t help but love settled upon her lips, and with it Greg was certain his heart expanded in his chest.