Three
If asked, Bella Lowe would have sworn that nothing could be more shocking than the arrival of Lord Brasleigh at Mayfield. After all, how monstrous did her luck have to be to bring him to Surrey just when she’d hoped she had escaped his unwelcome interference?
Now she realized the shocks were just beginning. There was no mistaking that persuasive smile, nor the intimate stroke of his fingers. Only a looby would not realize he was flirting with her.
Good heavens, hadn’t she swiftly learned since her impetuous flight that gentlemen considered such women open to their advances? She had been battling off a drunken soldier when Lady Stenhold had rescued her at the inn. Still, she had not expected such behavior from her own guardian. Even if he had no notion she was his ward.
Now she shivered as those fingers moved to the curve of her neck. Her fear was causing all sorts of disturbing tremors to race through her body. “Please, my lord,” she at last choked, forcing herself to take a step backward.
Undaunted, he followed until he was once again standing far too close. “What? Am I not allowed to tell you that I find you extraordinarily lovely?”
Bella, of course, had heard all the scandalous gossip surrounding her guardian. It was said that he broke hearts by simply strolling through the room. She had also heard that he possessed a lovely mistress. Clearly that did not halt him from attempting to seduce whatever lady happened to be available.
The . . . toad.
The thought helped to ease her rising panic. She would not allow him to frighten her into a hasty flight. Not when she had found a safe haven. Nor would she confess the truth. She was quite capable of fending off a lecherous rake for the few days he would be at Mayfield, wasn’t she? And someday she would take great delight in tossing his reprehensible behavior back in his handsome countenance.
“I would prefer that you did not,” she retorted in admirably firm tones.
“Why?”
“It is not proper.”
He gave a low chuckle. “And you always do what is proper?”
Bella refused to blush. Whatever she had done was only out of desperation. And any blame could be directly laid at this man’s door. “Whenever possible.”
His gaze stroked over her pale features. “I cannot be the first gentleman to be attracted to you.”
“You do not even know me.”
“I know that you made my blood stir the first moment I laid eyes upon you.” He shrugged. “What else matters?”
Her breath caught. He was nothing if not blunt. And insulting. “Really, my lord, you are impertinent.”
“No,” he protested softly. “I am honest.”
“Well, I do not care for your particular brand of honesty.”
He appeared thoroughly unrepentant. “Why? Because I know what I want?”
With an effort, Bella resisted the urge to stomp on one of his glossy boots. The realization that Lord Brasleigh was an out-and-out bounder did not lessen her risk of discovery. “Must I remind you that I am a guest of Lady Stenhold?”
Her cool reprimand was greeted with a widening of his wicked grin. “Not at all. I have been thanking heaven above since I discovered you standing in the drawing room. I had resigned myself to a tedious visit with Lady Stenhold; you have ensured that my visit will be anything but tedious.”
He was worse than a toad, she told herself. He was a . . . common lecher. Had she not made it painfully clear she possessed no interest in a flirtation? Was he so arrogant he could not believe that a woman could resist his advances? Or perhaps no woman had ever told him no, she seethed. Goodness knew that he was wretchedly handsome and of a social position to cause most women to overlook his overtly flawed character.
Obviously she would have to be even more blunt. “Sir, I must inform you that if you insist on treating me with disrespect I will have to leave Mayfield.”
The silver eyes narrowed at her sharp tone, but his smile never faltered. “Ah, you feel I am being too impetuous. Very well. As an angler, I have learned the art of patience. I will lure my catch with greater care, if you prefer. Until later, my dear.”
With a swift movement, he grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips.
Bella instinctively pulled her fingers free, but not before a startling heat flooded down her arm. She opened her mouth to inform the impossible man that he could possess the patience of Job and it would do no good. But with a brief bow, he was turning and disappearing into the woods as abruptly as he had arrived.
A harsh breath rushed past her lips. The fear that had knotted her stomach and made her head ache had receded during the shocking encounter. Now she felt a seething indignation.
For three hours she had struggled to convince herself that she could endure Lord Brasleigh’s visit by remaining meekly in the background and never drawing attention to herself. Unfortunately, she realized the boorish gentleman wasn’t about to allow her to remain in the background. He had determined she would add a bit of sport to his dull visit, and he wasn’t about to consider her own feelings in the matter.
So what did she do now?
She was not about to return to the estate near Bath. Not when the threat of being bartered to a stranger still hung over her head like a guillotine. And she had learned her lesson in foolishly rushing into the world with no destination and little money.
Blast Lord Brasleigh.
It had been bad enough to be raised without a mother and with a father who was rarely in the country. She had been shuttled from schools to various families that had been paid to take her in. She had never possessed a home of her own or a family. There had never been anyone to care about her unless they were being paid to make the pretense. But still, she had always been able to cherish the dream that she would one day fall in love and create a home and family of her own. It was what had kept her spirits intact.
Lord Brasleigh had tried to steal even that.
Blast. Blast. Blast.
Well, she would not allow him to frighten her into another mistake. She would remain at Mayfield even if she had to fight off Lord Brasleigh night and day.
Somehow she would find a home of her own.
Turning on her heel, Bella determinedly made her way back to the sprawling manor. For once, she was not charmed by the rambling stone structure or Gothic windows. Her thoughts instead brooded on the evil fate that had forced Lord Brasleigh into her life.
Entering through a side door, Bella was on the point of climbing the stairs to her chambers when Lady Stenhold appeared in the hallway. “Oh, Anna, there you are. I have been searching for you.”
Suppressing the urge to simply continue up the stairs and lock herself in privacy, Bella instead forced a stiff smile to her pale countenance. “I am sorry. I went for a walk.”
“Do not apologize.” The older lady advanced, her sharp eyes searching Bella’s tense expression. “You are a guest, and are free to come and go as you please.”
As always, Bella felt a tiny pang at Lady Stenhold’s open kindness. She could only wish there were no need for deception. How wonderful it would be if she were truly just a guest. “Thank you.”
“You seem troubled, my dear. Is something the matter?”
Lord Brasleigh was the bloody matter. “It is nothing,” she forced herself to say.
Lady Stenhold was far too shrewd to be so easily misled. “You mustn’t fret over our unexpected guests. As soon as Lord Brasleigh has inspected his estates, I am certain they will swiftly be on their way back to London.”
“I hope you are right,” Bella breathed.
Lady Stenhold smiled in an encouraging manner. “Of course I am. Richard is notoriously attached to the entertainment of town. He will not linger long.”
Bella could only pray she was right. “I should change for dinner.”
“Do not worry, Anna. Everything will be fine.”
Simple enough for her to say, Bella acknowledged as she slowly turned to climb the stairs. She was not the one on the run from her guardian, using a false name, and being pursued by a common rake.
Bella did not think anything would be fine for a long time to come.
* * *
Although not an excessively temperamental servant, Lord Brasleigh’s valet could reveal his disappointment in his young master without uttering a word. Waiting with wounded calm as Philip strolled into his chambers a mere half hour before he was due downstairs for dinner, Ludwin set about his tasks with a decided air of martyrdom.
Unfortunately for the servant, Philip was far too intent on his own thoughts to fully appreciate the masterful performance. Instead, he reviewed his day with a sense of satisfaction.
He was quite certain that he had made a promising beginning in taming his shrew of a ward. There had been no mistaking her outraged panic at his heavy-handed flirtation. Or the hint of fear deep in those dark eyes.
Of course, he had taken care not to force her into flight. He was willing to devote a few days to teaching the chit a lesson. And if he were perfectly honest, he could not deny that his initial anger at being forced into such extreme measures had been eased at the unexpected pleasure in teasing the minx. There was something rather amusing in watching the flash of those dark eyes and revealing color that bloomed beneath her angelic countenance.
With a sense of anticipation, he waited for his grim-faced valet to smooth the indigo-blue coat over his broad shoulders and give his raven hair a last brush. Then, collecting the small box he had acquired in the village that afternoon, he left his chambers to walk the short distance to Bella’s rooms.
A part of him acknowledged that he was behaving rather badly. He had, after all, already given her a sample of what could occur to a lovely maiden on her own. But another part of him urged him to continue the charade until she came to her senses. What if she were to bolt again, and this time he could not find her? There were any number of gentlemen willing to do far worse than he had.
The mere thought of the tiny maiden in the clutches of some debauched lecher was enough to make his heart clench in a most peculiar fashion. It also made him more determined than ever to make Bella Lowe realize how foolish she was behaving.
With his resolve once more intact, Philip moved to the door and sharply rapped on the smooth wood. He paused for only a moment; then as he heard her call to enter, he pushed the open door and stepped inside.
At his entrance, she was seated at a window seat, gazing into the growing dusk. For a moment he was allowed to appreciate the delicate beauty of her profile and the slender frame shown to advantage in the simple lilac gown.
Had he been of a fanciful nature, he might have thought he had never seen such a lovely sight—the shimmer of fire in her golden hair, the curve of her shoulders, the proud tilt of her head. But thankfully, he was far too immune to the wiles of women to be swayed by mere beauty.
Collecting his wayward thoughts, Philip was prepared as Bella slowly turned toward the door. Clearly expecting a servant, her eyes widened at the sight of his large form. With awkward motions, she scrambled to her feet and regarded him with angry dismay. “My lord.”
Philip raised a restraining hand as he strolled forward. “Yes, I know I should not be here, so there is no need to utter that reprimand trembling on your lips. I merely wished to bring you this.”
She eyed the proffered box as if she feared it might contain the plague. “I have no desire for presents, my lord.”
“It is a mere trifling.” He moved to press the box into her unwilling hand. “A pretty fan that I purchased in the village.”
She futilely attempted to hand the box back to him. “No, thank you.”
“You would not be so unkind as to refuse my gift?” he protested.
Her tiny nose flared as she struggled to censure the words of condemnation that rose to her lips. She clearly wished him in Hades. “My lord, perhaps I did not make myself clear. I have no interest in a . . . a . . .”
“Flirtation?” he helpfully supplied.
“Precisely.”
“Oh, you made yourself clear, and I must admit that at first I was disappointed.” He ran a deliberate gaze over her slender form. “But now I have realized your way is far preferable.”
Her arms instinctively clasped about her waist as if to ward off his thorough survey. “My way?”
“Victory is always much sweeter when one must struggle to achieve it.” He smiled with devilish amusement. “And I have a feeling that our struggle is bound to be quite delicious.”
“I am not playing games, my lord,” she said through gritted teeth. “I wish you to leave me in peace.”
He chuckled. “Yes, of course.”
“I am serious, my lord.”
His smile abruptly faded as he reached out a hand to lightly brush the frantic pulse at the base of her neck. “So am I, Mrs. Smith. And I warn you that I always get what I want.”
She jerked from his touch as if she had been burned, and with a sardonic bow, Philip turned to stroll back out of the room. He had barely closed the door when the sound of a loud crash echoed through the thick wood.
Philip tilted back his head to laugh with rich amusement. So the hellcat was not as in control of her emotions as she tried to pretend. Surely it could not be long before she accepted that marriage was preferable to such advances?
Across the corridor, another door opened to reveal Pudding attired in his familiar brilliant yellow coat. The outrageous attire had become as much a part of him as his sharp wit.
Catching sight of Philip, the gentleman moved to join him. “Is something amusing?” he demanded at Philip’s wide smile.
“Mrs. Smith,” Philip explained at the same movement another crash splintered the air.
“It does not sound as if she is similarly amused,” Pudding pointed out the obvious.
“No, but she is realizing how vulnerable she has made herself.”
“Will you tell her the truth?”
Philip gave a shake of his head. “Not until I am convinced she will wed Monsieur LeMont without causing me further annoyance. Come, I am starving.”
* * *
Two hours later, Philip sat back with a small smile. Although he was never one to overindulge, he had been hard-pressed to resist the delectable courses that had been laid before him. He might pride himself on possessing the finest chef in England, but he very much feared that Lady Stenhold’s artist in the kitchen held the upper hand.
Perhaps he would make an effort to gain the acquaintance of the cook before leaving Mayfield. His hunting lodge could certainly benefit from such talent.
Allowing a hovering servant to replenish his wine, Philip raised it toward his hostess. “My compliments on a delightful meal, Lady Stenhold.”
“Thank you.” Lady Stenhold gave a gracious nod of her silver head. “Tell me, Lord Brasleigh, which estates are you viewing?”
Thankfully, Philip had requested his secretary discover a few suitable locations before leaving for Surrey. “There is a small estate north of Egham and an old vicarage just beyond Marchwood that possesses a few acres.”
“Does your ward prefer Surrey, my lord?” Lady Stenhold demanded.
Philip gave a vague shrug. “I haven’t the faintest notion.”
He heard the soft rasp as Bella drew in a sharp breath. She had been all but silent throughout the meal, but his negligent comment had obviously struck a nerve.
“You do not appear overly concerned with her happiness,” she charged in low tones.
He slowly turned to meet her glittering gaze. “On the contrary. I have provided her a home, an education, a generous supply of clothing, and now a suitable husband complete with a new estate. I have clearly done little else but consider her happiness.”
She failed to reveal the faintest hint of apology. “Did you inquire if she wishes a husband and a new estate?”
“You appear remarkably concerned for my ward, Mrs. Smith.”
Her gaze abruptly dropped to her barely touched plate. “I merely sympathize with a young lady who has no control over her future.”
Philip leaned forward, for the moment forgetting the interested onlookers. “What control do any of us have, Mrs. Smith? We are all bound by duty and obligations.”
She lifted her gaze at his challenge. “You are free to choose what will become of your life.”
“Am I?” His lips unconsciously twisted. “Do I not have responsibilities to my estate? To the servants who depend upon me for their livelihood? To my mother and, of course, to my ward?”
“That is hardly the same.”
“How is it different?”
“You are not being forced to wed.”
“I shall eventually have to wed and produce an heir.”
Her lips thinned with exasperation at his thoroughly logical arguments. “But to a bride of your choice.”
He gave a short laugh at the thought of the debutantes that had been paraded before him. “From a very limited selections of eligible maidens.”
Clearly as stubborn as she was impetuous, two highly undesirable traits, the minx regarded him with a defiant expression. “You at least have the opportunity to search for love.”
“Love?” He raised his brows in a faintly mocking fashion. “And what do you consider love to be, Mrs. Smith?”
A startling hint of vulnerability entered her dark eyes. “Respect. Common interest. The enjoyment of each other’s company.”
A tiny pang of remorse briefly tugged at Philip’s heart before he was sternly smothering the unwelcome sensation. Did she hope to discover love by lying and pretending to be someone else? She was far more likely to be attacked and left a broken woman. Far better to have a stable home with a gentleman who would treat her with kindness.
With a deliberate effort, he allowed his gaze to drift to the modest cut of her gown. “And passion?” he murmured.
She colored at his provocative tone, but her gaze never wavered. “Of course.”
“Was that the love you enjoyed with your husband?”
He did not miss the quiver that ran through her slender body.
“I was speaking in general, my lord.”
An awkward silence fell at her low words; then taking command of the situation, Lady Stenhold rose to her feet. “Perhaps we should leave the gentlemen to their port. Come along, Anna.”