Some Like It Brazen by Alexandra Ivy (14)

Bianca tugged upon the silver locket until the chain threatened to break.

Men were without a doubt the most aggravating of creatures.

Both her father and Edward must know she would be upon pins and needles to learn what had happened during their interview. For God’s sake, it was her future they were discussing.

But while she had refused to step so much as a foot outside the townhouse, and had even delayed leaving for the Braxton’s musicale until she was more than fashionably late, she had not heard a word from either gentleman.

She was going to choke the both of them, she decided as she gave the necklace another jerk.

Or take off her slipper and beat them over the head with it.

Anything that might jiggle loose a bit of sense in their thick skulls.

Glancing impatiently over her shoulder at the empty doorway, Bianca heaved a sigh of relief as the aria screeched to a halt and the guests were allowed a brief respite from the painful schedule of entertainment.

She was out of her seat before her mother could lecture her upon proper decorum and on her way to the hallway, where she hoped Edward, or even her father, might be lurking.

She was just stepping through the entryway when a uniformed footman approached her and, with a small bow, handed her a folded note.

Her heart gave a leap of excitement as she smoothed the paper and read the short missive.

Edward.

It could be no one else.

Tucking the note into her glove, she did not hesitate as she hurried down the staircase and headed toward the back of the townhouse. Thankfully, her mother was well aware of her dislike for such tedious musicales and would presume she was hiding in the withdrawing room until it was safe to leave.

She could disappear without causing a murmur.

A tingle of anticipation feathered down her spine as she searched the maze of hallways until at last she discovered the one that led to the conservatory.

Dear lord, she was utterly shameless, she acknowledged with a small smile. She had spent hours in Edward’s arms quenching her passion last eve. He had taught her there were any number of means to pleasure one another.

Surely any other maiden would be at least a tad embarrassed by her brazen behavior?

But not her.

The mere thought of the man who was to become her husband was enough to make her ache for his touch.

Pressing open the glass door, Bianca stepped into the shadowed heat of the small conservatory. At once she was shrouded in the exotic scent of rare orchids. She instinctively wrinkled her nose.

She did not care for such a heavy, cloying scent.

Glancing about, she stepped farther down the paved path, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness.

“Hello?” she called softly. “Is anyone here?”

“Yes,” a male voice answered from the back depths.

Puzzled by Edward’s odd behavior, Bianca moved between the banks of lush plants, halting as she reached a marble fountain.

“Are you hiding?” she demanded.

“I have been hiding.” A slender, elegantly attired form abruptly stepped into a shaft of moonlight. “Until now.”

Bianca stiffened in surprise. “Stephen?”

He offered a half bow. “At your service.”

“Whatever are you doing here?”

A practiced smile curved the lips that were just a trifle too thin.

“Awaiting you, of course. What else would I be doing?”

Realization struck with sudden force. Blast. She had been expecting a few glorious stolen moments with Edward. Now she would have to endure yet another strained confrontation with this gentleman.

She would rather listen to a dozen dreadful arias.

“You sent me the note.”

“Who else?” Slowly strolling forward, Stephen narrowed his eyes. “Do not tell me you were expecting your farmer?”

“Why did you wish to meet with me?”

His smile briefly faltered at her impatient tone, but with a skill that had led to more than one broken female heart, he was once more revealing his perfect white teeth.

“To begin with, I intend to confess that I have been a fool and a coward,” he murmured in golden tones. He reached out to grasp her hands in a tight grip.

“What?”

She found herself being tugged relentlessly closer. So close that the heavy odor of his cologne mixed unpleasantly with the thick perfume in the air.

It was a striking contrast to Edward’s clean, crisp scent.

With a rather dramatic motion, Stephen forced her hand to splay against his chest, his expression assuming one of deepest sorrow.

“My dearest, when your father refused my offer of marriage I was out of my wits with suffering. To even think of my life without you was unbearable.” He paused as if attempting to judge the affect of his words upon her. “And . . . there was, of course, the decided blow to my pride. Your father made it quite clear that I was beneath his contempt.”

Bianca could not halt her small wince. Her feelings for this gentleman might have died a swift death, but she could not deny he had been treated badly by her family.

“I am sorry, Stephen.”

“I am the one who is sorry,” he startled her by insisting. “I behaved as a spoiled child rather than a gentleman who loves you desperately. I should never have walked away. What do I care of your fortune? Or even your father’s approval? Nothing matters but our love. Possessing your heart is far more important than possessing a fortune.”

A silence descended as she regarded him with a growing wariness.

She had expected his anger. Even accepted that she deserved some small measure of punishment. But never had she supposed he would still harbor the notion that they would wed.

She hid a sharp shudder. It was unthinkable.

“Stephen—”

“We will somehow survive, that I promise you, my love.” He determinedly overrode her soft protest. “Perhaps it will not be as luxurious as you are accustomed to, but I shall do everything in my power to ensure you never lack for comfort.”

Her wariness deepened. Something was not right. Stephen was very much a gentleman of London. An expensive gentleman who would as soon slit his throat as to live in shabby gentility.

“Stephen, you are not thinking clearly,” she said in careful tones.

“No, at last I am thinking clearly,” he insisted, his eyes glittering with a hectic fire. “I know that you love me. I know you want to be my wife. You certainly have claimed it often enough. Or have you forgotten the impassioned letters you wrote to me? I still have them.”

She inwardly cringed at the recollection of those letters. At the time it had seemed something a young woman in love should do. Only now did she realize it was merely an attempt to prove to herself that her emotions were genuine.

How else could she justify using him as a mere means to escape her golden prison?

“I did care, Stephen,” she hedged, too embarrassed to admit the truth.

His eyes narrowed. “You still care.”

“The situation has changed.”

“Because you feel obligated to wed a fortune? Do not fret.” He lifted her stiff fingers to his lips. “We shall no doubt be as poor as church mice, but we shall be together. Nothing else matters.”

Her eyes widened. As poor as church mice?

All right. Now she knew something was wrong.

Clearly Stephen was either playing some cruel game or he was cast to the wind.

“Please, you must listen to me,” she commanded, wanting nothing so much as to be out of the conservatory.

The blue eyes seemed to harden before his arms abruptly lashed about her and hauled her against his slender form.

“After I have kissed you,” he muttered, pressing his lips to her unwilling mouth. “God, I have missed you so much.”

A surge of panic raced through her as she battled herself from his clinging hold and wiped her hand over her lips.

“No.”

Reaching out he grasped her arm before she could flee. “What is it, my love?”

“Whatever there was between us is over.” With a futile effort she attempted to tug her arm free of his harsh grip. “You must know it is.”

“Because of your dowry? I have told you that it does not matter.”

Her expression hardened with annoyance. “I am promised to another.”

“The Peasant Earl?”

She stiffened in shock. “How did you know?”

“Does it matter?” His lips curled into an ugly sneer. “My God, do you think that I could bear for you to sacrifice yourself to that awkward oaf just for my comfort? Never. You deserve a man who is worthy of you. A man who comes from your world, not from the stables.”

She instinctively halted her struggle to glare at the countenance that was not nearly so handsome as she had once thought it to be.

“Edward is a wonderful man.”

A sharp, humorless laugh echoed through the conservatory. The sound sent a chill down her spine. Suddenly she was aware of just how isolated they were from the other guests.

“No doubt you have tried to convince yourself of that. After all, he is disgustingly wealthy. But we both know he will never fit into society. He will be a never anything but an embarrassment to you and your family.”

“That is not true—”

“Of course it is.” He broke into her furious words. “Not that it matters. You will be my wife. You belong to me.”

Belong to him?

She barely resisted the urge to slap his smug face. Gads, how could she have ever thought this man to be worth a moment of her time?

Under that smooth charm he was a loathsome toad.

“You are very confident in yourself,” she accused in frigid tones.

He shrugged. “I am confident in you. You have made it very obvious you still love me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The locket, my sweet.” His fingers loosened their grip on her arm to touch the silver necklace. “If you no longer loved me, why would you still wear my portrait above your heart?”

“That is ridiculous. I—” A sharp sound directly behind her had Bianca spinning about to watch as a large, familiar form retreated from the conservatory. Her heart halted at the realization that Edward must have overheard at least a portion of the conversation. And that judging from the stiffness of his back, he was not best pleased to discover her alone with another man. Damn and blast. “Edward. Edward, where are you going?”

He had to have heard her anxious call, but his steps never slowed, and even as she stepped forward to halt him, the sound of the glass door being slammed shut reverberated through the room.

Her stomach clenched in dread.

No. Oh . . . no.

Edward stormed from the townhouse without a glance toward the various guests who sought to gain his attention. In truth, he did not even notice their presence. Nor the presence of the handful of servants who were forced to scurry from his path or be plowed over.

There was nothing but the red haze of fury that filled his entire being.

God . . . the rumormongers were right.

He was the worst sort of gapseed.

A sap-skulled, naïve dolt who should never have been allowed to step foot in society.

The evening had started so well.

After his interview with the Duke of Lockharte, he had devoted the afternoon to his tailor. After all, a gentleman about to wed Lady Bianca would be in need of the most elegant of wardrobes. He would do nothing to shame her, even if it meant attiring himself as a bloody dandy.

Then there had been a quick meeting with his man of business to ensure the paperwork for his upcoming nuptials would be set into motion as swiftly as possible before rushing home to dress for the musicale.

It was only because he had been running late that he had seen Bianca hurrying toward the back of the house in the first place. He had been curious but not unduly alarmed as he had followed in her wake. He had even paused at a mirror to ensure his damnable cravat had not wilted and that his hair was not mussed.

Just like a preening coxcomb, he had acknowledged with a hint of disgust at his vanity.

Of course, the delay had meant he had been late in entering the conservatory. So late that Bianca had thought herself alone with her beloved Lord Aldron and at liberty to indulge in a passionate, star-crossed-lover scene. One that was quite worthy of Shakespeare.

And had revealed the truth of the woman he had very nearly made his countess.

The red haze deepened to crimson as he swept down the steps and searched the line of carriages until he found his own. Irritably waving the startled groom aside, he yanked open the door and climbed within.

“Take me home,” he growled.

“At once, sir.”

Closing the door, Edward leaned against the leather squabs and clenched his fists in his lap.

He had never been so furious in his entire life. And yet at the same moment, there was a horrible part of him that longed for nothing more than to return to the conservatory and toss Bianca over his shoulder so he could carry her off and never let her go.

By God . . . he truly was a dolt.

“Edward.”

Without warning, the door to the carriage was wrenched open and Bianca was clambering into the darkness with him.

Shock at her audacity held him momentarily speechless, but as she shut the door and firmly settled in the seat opposite him, he at last found his tongue.

“Get out of the carriage, Bianca,” he gritted.

Her chin tilted to a determined angle. “No, not until you tell me what is the matter.”

Against his will, he discovered his gaze roaming hungrily over her slender form. Even in the shadows he noticed that she appeared oddly ruffled, with her features flushed and her raven curls tumbling from the tidy knot atop her head.

Perhaps not so surprising, an evil voice whispered in the back of his mind. She did just come from the arms of another man.

A relentless pain clutched at his heart.

“Do not play the innocent, Lady Bianca. I am in no humor for it.”

She bit her lip as if startled by his harsh tone. “You are angry?”

He gave a short, humorless laugh. “How did you think I would feel to discover you in the arms of your love?”

“He is not my love.”

Her fierce words only fueled his anger. Of course she would deny her feelings for the other man. At the moment she was still terrified at the thought of his fortune slipping from her fingers.

“What a fool I have been.” He gave a disgusted sound deep in his throat. “Biddles warned me, but I refused to listen to his warnings.”

A frown touched her forehead. “Edward, if you were listening, then you must have heard me tell Stephen that I no longer care for him.”

“Because you were in need of a fortune. Something he could not give to you.” His jaw knotted. Common sense warned him to bundle her out of the carriage and leave without a backward glance. What was the point in hashing through her deceit? But common sense had little sway over a broken heart and wounded pride. Suddenly he needed to know the truth. “Why did you lie to me?”

She blinked at his abrupt question. “I never lied.”

“You swore to me that your heart was your own.”

“It is, or it was until I gave it to you,” she protested, even managing to conjure a shimmer of tears in the magnificent midnight eyes. Hell’s teeth, she should be walking the boards.

“The truth, Bianca. Did you have a relationship with Lord Aldron?”

She paused, and for a moment Edward thought she would attempt a futile lie. Then, with a restless shrug, she gave in to the inevitable.

“For a short time.”

“And you intended to wed him?”

“I . . . yes.”

Edward flinched. Ridiculously, her grudging confirmation of what he already knew sent another flare of pain searing through his heart.

As if he had foolishly hoped there had been some terrible misunderstanding.

Sapskull.

“And you did not think it worthy of telling me?” he growled.

“It was in the past. My father had already refused his proposal.”

Edward froze as the truth slammed into him. Damn the Duke of Lockharte. He had played the both of them for fools.

“My God,” he breathed. “That was why your father played his devious game. He knew you were in love with a fortune hunter.”

Bianca regarded him in puzzlement. “Game? What game?”

Tilting back his head, he gave a harsh laugh. “Congratulations, my dear, you are not quite so penniless as you supposed. I had it from the Duke that he has no need of my wealth. You have your dowry, and now you can have the man you want.”

She lifted a hand to press it to her heart. The movement drew attention to the spill of her white breasts barely covered by the low cut of her bodice, and Edward was forced to shift uncomfortably on the seat.

Obviously his body had not yet received the message that this woman was a treacherous jade.

“My father lied to me?”

“It appears to run in the family.”

She ignored his insult as her brows drew together. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“Obviously he thought it the only means to keep you from the man you desired as your husband.”

“But—”

“Enough.” Edward lifted a hand to rub at the knotted muscles of his neck. “Speak with your father if you wish to know what was in his convoluted mind. I wash my hands of the both of you.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, as if he had actually struck her.

“This is absurd.” She leaned forward, her features glowing with breathtaking beauty in the moonlight. “You know how I feel about you.”

Edward eyed her with blatant suspicion. He had expected her to flee to her former fiancé the moment she learned that she was no longer bound to search for a fortune.

It made no sense for her to continue playing her cruel charade.

Still, if he had discovered nothing else this night, it was that he could not trust this woman.

“I know what you desired me to believe.”

“Last night—”

“What?” he rudely interrupted. “You gave me your body?”

She flinched at his bald words. “Yes.”

“With another man’s portrait about your neck.” Before he even knew what he was doing, Edward leaned forward to tug the locket from about her throat. The cool silver seemed to burn his palm as he glared down at the delicate bit of jewelry. This, he realized, was the greatest source of his pain. Beyond the lies, beyond the knowledge he had been no more than a convenient means to a fortune, it was the cold-blooded manner in which she had pretended to love him while she clung to the portrait of another man. “I suppose you were imagining I was your precious Stephen when you took me into your body?”

“Never.”

He tossed the locket into her lap. God, he could not stomach to touch it.

“Do you think he will forgive you for having sacrificed your innocence?” he demanded. “Ah, do not bother to answer. No doubt he will be willing to forgive any sin once he discovers your dowry remains intact.”

She abruptly sank back in her seat, her expression one of wounded confusion.

“How can you be so horrible?” she whispered.

Just for a moment, Edward found himself nearly overwhelmed by a flood of guilt. She appeared so disarmingly hurt. As if she truly did possess a measure of feeling for him.

Then his gaze was caught by the flash of silver from the locket upon her lap, and he sternly hardened his traitorous emotions.

Good lord, how many times did he need to have his heart stomped upon before he learned his lesson?

“How do you want me to be?” he rasped. “The simple, blundering farmer who does not have the wits to sense when he is being used? Sorry, but I fear that man has had his eyes opened. He will never be so naïve again.”

Without warning, she reached down to grasp the necklace and tossed it onto the carriage floor.

“The locket meant nothing, Edward,” she hissed. “For God’s sake, I had forgotten that Stephen’s portrait was even within it.”

Edward abruptly turned his head to glare out the window. It was the very fact he so desperately wanted to believe her that made him realize he had endured enough.

He was furious, sick at heart, and well beyond coherent thought.

All he desired was a decanter of brandy and the comfort of his bed.

Tomorrow was time enough to sort through the mess he had managed to make of his life.

“Go, Bianca.”

“Edward—”

“Go.” He turned his head to stab her with a steely glance. “I have nothing left to say to you.”