Some Like It Brazen by Alexandra Ivy (15)

Having heard any number of scandalous rumors concerning London’s most famous gambling hell, Bianca was rather startled to discover that Hellion’s Den was a rather modest establishment with a subdued elegance that was not at all shocking.

Of course it was only midday, she had consoled herself. No doubt the half-dressed courtesans and drunken dandies seeking a duel did not arrive until at least after tea.

Stepping across the threshold, she swept between the numerous tables and headed directly for the nearby stairs. Hardly the behavior of a proper lady, but then she had already called upon Edward’s townhouse without so much as a maid to lend her countenance.

If society desired to be scandalized over her brazen behavior, she did not give a fig.

Nothing mattered but that she somehow discover Edward’s whereabouts.

Now.

Clearly rattled at the sight of an impatient lady of the ton marching through the gaming room, a young male servant hurried to block her path.

“Forgive me, but you cannot be here, miss,” he stammered with a fierce blush.

Forced to halt, Bianca planted her hands upon her hips and conjured a haughty frown suitable for the daughter of a duke.

“It is Lady Bianca, not miss, and I am here to speak with Lord Bidwell. You will fetch him at once.”

The lad’s eyes bulged in terror, but much to his credit he managed to hold his ground.

“I fear that Lord Bidwell has not yet arrived. If you would be so good as to leave a message . . .”

Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. She had never been one to run roughshod over poor servants, but today she would allow no one to stand in her way.

She was a woman on a mission.

“I will not step foot from this spot until I have spoken with his lordship, so you might as well inform your employer that it will do no good to attempt to fob me off.”

“Lady Bianca.” The drawling voice drifted from the top of the stairs. “Is it not rather early in the day to be terrifying my servants?”

Bianca stiffened as she watched the slender, thin-faced gentleman mince his way down the stairs. Attired in a blinding yellow coat and green breeches, he lightly dabbed at his nose with a lacy handkerchief. However, it was his expression of mocking amusement that set her nerves on edge.

“Where is Edward?” she demanded in stark tones.

“Good morning to you as well,” he chided with a lazy glance toward the nervous servant. “That will be all, Cookson.” He waited for the lad to scurry away before returning his attention to her rigid expression. “May I offer you coffee?”

Her teeth clashed together in annoyance.

God almighty. She had just spent the worst night of her life as she had paced the floor and wrestled with the fear that she had lost Edward forever.

That had been followed by a frantic morning spent attempting to find her elusive fiancé.

She was in no humor to be patronized by a gentleman who had obviously done everything in his power to turn Edward against her.

“No, I thank you.”

A sardonic smile touched the thin lips. “Tea? Brandy? Arsenic?”

“All I want is Edward,” she snapped with impatience.

“And you believe I have him tucked in my pocket?”

“I believe you know where he is.”

With a flutter of his handkerchief, Lord Bidwell strolled to straighten the silver candlesticks upon a nearby table.

“It is possible; however, you cannot imagine I would betray his whereabouts to you. You are, after all, the reason he disappeared in the first place.”

Bianca winced in spite of herself. She refused to accept that she was entirely to blame for Edward’s unreasonable behavior. After all, he had been quite eager to believe the worst of her.

But there was no denying that she had not been utterly honest with him.

“I must speak with him.”

The nobleman abruptly turned about, an unnerving glitter in his pale eyes.

“You were not yet finished torturing him? Perhaps you had another knife to thrust into his back?”

She ignored the sudden danger that shimmered in the air. She would not be intimidated. This was too important.

“I am well aware that you have never approved of me, Lord Bidwell.” She confronted him directly.

If she expected him to reveal the least discomfort, she was doomed to disappointment. His smile merely widened.

“I possess impeccable taste.”

“I also know that you have attempted to convince Edward that I am untrustworthy,” she charged.

“Clearly I am brilliant as well.”

The thought of choking the infuriating man briefly flashed through her mind. The pleasure would no doubt make up for being hung for murder.

Unfortunately, she needed the man to discover the whereabouts of Edward.

Stepping forward, she stabbed a finger toward his pointed nose. “But you have been mistaken in me. I love Edward. And nothing and no one is going to keep me from becoming his wife.”

He did not so much as flinch. “No doubt you said similar words to Lord Aldron and who knows how many other gullible fools.”

Arggg . . . the man was truly loathsome.

“You have never done anything foolish in your life, my lord?” she demanded. “You have never allowed yourself to be dazzled by a pretty face or said words you wished unspoken? You have never kept secrets because you feared what might occur if they were revealed? You must be a remarkable man.”

Shockingly, the slender man seemed to stiffen at her challenging words. Almost as if she had managed to touch a nerve. Then, with startling swiftness, his mocking expression dropped to reveal the shrewd intelligence he kept so well hidden.

“What is it you want, Lady Bianca?”

She took a moment to consider her words. She did not doubt she could cry and moan and plead until she swooned and not sway the man. It would only be by convincing him that she had no intention of hurting his friend further that she would learn what she needed to know.

“I want the opportunity to prove to Edward that I love him,” she said with soft sincerity.

“And how do you intend to do that?”

Well, that was the question, of course.

How did a woman convince a man that she loved him?

That was a worry for later, she told herself sternly. For now all that mattered was finding Edward.

“I will do whatever is necessary.”

“He is a stubborn man who feels he has been betrayed. He is not likely to make matters simple for you.”

Her lips twisted. Lord Bidwell was not acquainted with her or he would never have made such an absurd statement.

“He could not possibly be as stubborn as I. Lord Harrington may not realize it yet, but sooner or later he will be my husband.”

The pale gaze regarded her for a long moment before the slender gentleman at last heaved a resigned sigh.

“Edward returned to Kent this morning.”

Her heart clenched with an awful dread.

So he truly had abandoned her.

Hardly the actions of a gentleman who hoped to sort out the troubles that brewed between them.

Could it be that Edward truly had washed his hands of her? Had he so convinced himself she had betrayed him that he would refuse to listen to reason?

“He has returned to his estate?”

Lord Bidwell gave a lift of his hands. “He claimed he had lost his taste for London.”

She swallowed heavily. “Does he intend to return?”

“That I cannot say.” He regarded her intently. “I did warn you that it would not be a simple matter.”

She fiercely battled back the tears that threatened.

No.

She would not give in to despair.

Somehow she would force Edward to face the truth.

They belonged together no matter what the thick-skulled oaf might believe at the moment.

“Thank you, Lord Bidwell. I will trouble you no further.” Turning on her heel, Bianca crossed carefully toward the door, sternly refusing to allow her shaking legs to betray her. Once upon the threshold, however, she turned to regard the brilliantly attired nobleman with a somber gaze.

“Are you a betting man, Lord Bidwell?”

A smile curved his lips. “My dear, I own a gambling hell.”

“What odds would you give for my success?”

Without warning, he tilted back his head to laugh with genuine amusement.

“I would as soon wager that the sun will rise in the west as to wager against a female determined to haul a male to the nearest vicar.”

 

 

Moving through the servants’ quarters of his small estate, Edward stifled a sigh at the sound of muffled tears that echoed through the hall.

Although it had been near a week since his return to Kent, he had still not fully accustomed himself to shouldering the tedious day-to-day troubles that inevitably cropped up.

In London he had been the Earl of Harrington. No one would dare to trouble him with anything but the most crucial decisions. And in truth his household ran with such smooth efficiency that he had not dared to interfere.

Here he was just Edward Sinclair. A man considered more family than master.

Halting at the open door to the housekeeper’s rooms, he regarded the large woman with steel gray hair who was currently mopping her face with a large handkerchief.

“Mrs. Green,” he softly chided. “What is this nonsense?”

“Oh, sir.” Turning her bulk toward the door, the housekeeper regarded him with a tragic expression. “I cannot possibly leave you in the lurch like this. Who will tend to you if I am gone?”

They were the same words he had heard over a dozen times since his unexpected return, and he bit back yet another sigh.

The older woman had been a mainstay at the estate for decades and was quite convinced they could not survive a day without her.

Or perhaps she merely wished to be assured that they could not survive without her, a tiny voice whispered in the back of his mind.

Thrusting aside his unworthy flare of impatience, Edward forced a small smile to his lips. He would not allow his ill humor to be taken out on his staff.

“We will all miss your services, my dear, and no doubt the house will be in shambles by the time you return, but we will manage to muddle through.” He reached out to pat her shoulder. “You cannot possibly miss the wedding of your granddaughter.”

She twisted the handkerchief in her hands, obviously torn between being with her family and the fear some calamity might descend while she was gone.

“I did promise Betsy I would be with her.”

“And that is precisely what you shall do.”

“But—”

“The carriage is waiting at the door, and you know how I dislike having my cattle left standing,” he interrupted with a stern glance.

“It does not seem right.” She gave a small sniff. “Who will see to you?”

He resisted the urge to glance down and see if he was still in short coats. The elder members of the staff never seemed to realize that he had actually left the nursery.

“Mrs. Chester will take care of the meals, and there are Maggie and Liza for the cleaning,” he soothed. “Besides, it is not as if I intend to do any entertaining.”

The round countenance abruptly hardened with disdain. “You may not intend to entertain, but you know the Vicar and his wife will be landing on your doorstep the moment they learn you have returned. Mrs. Allison must always be first to know the latest gossip.”

Edward hid a smile at the woman’s sour tone. There were few in the neighborhood who had not run afoul of Mrs. Allison’s sharp tongue and habit of spreading about the most ridiculous tales.

“And when have I ever possessed the least amount of gossip to share?”

“Mark my words, without me here she will force her company upon you and will be quizzing you on everything from the Prince to the latest color of ribbons to every female who might have batted a lash in your direction. Not to mention devouring every biscuit in the house.”

Edward froze at her unwitting words.

Bianca.

Hell’s teeth. It had been a week since he had last seen Bianca. A week during which he had done his best to struggle through his tangled emotions and decide what the future might hold for them.

A perfectly reasonable means of making the proper decision.

Unfortunately, not a moment passed when he was not battling the fierce need to rush back to London. He ached for her with a force that denied logic.

“I am perfectly capable of giving Mrs. Allison a short shift if necessary,” he muttered, not surprised when the housekeeper regarded him with a searching gaze.

Although the staff had been careful not to probe into his abrupt return from London, they all were aware that something had occurred. It was in the manner they tiptoed about him, as if they feared he might suddenly combust.

“Capable, perhaps, but not willing,” she murmured.

Taking her arm, he firmly led her toward the door. “You can trust in me.”

“Well, I suppose it shall only be for a few days.”

“Downstairs with you,” he commanded.

Entering the hall, the housekeeper swiveled about to stab him with a stern frown.

“You are to eat every morsel that Margaret puts before you, and do not be wearing your good boots to the field. Oh, and if Mrs. Horwitt drops by one of her sponge cakes, you are to thank her and throw it directly in the rubbish. Her mind is not at all what it was, and there is no telling what might be in—”

“Good lord, enough.” Edward chuckled as he waved his hand toward the front door. “Now shoo.”

“It is good to have you home, sir.” She reached up to pat his cheek as if he were no more than five. “We have all missed you.”

His heart warmed at her obvious affection. However much his heart might urge him to return to London, it truly was good to be home.

“As I have missed you.” He squeezed her fingers before gently stepping back. “Now go before we both embarrass ourselves and break out in maudlin tears.”

Seemingly convinced that the roof would not tumble down the moment she stepped foot outside the door and that Edward was not secretly plotting to have her replaced, Mrs. Green at last turned and firmly headed down the hall.

Edward heaved a small breath of relief as he abandoned the servants’ quarters and headed upstairs to his study.

There were endless stacks of bills and estate accounts awaiting his attention. Thus far he had accomplished little more than shuffling them from one pile to another. And of course his steward had left a list of various repairs he wished to begin as soon as Edward offered his approval.

Today he intended to complete one task.

The thought was forefront in his mind as he entered the small room that was nearly overwhelmed by the heavy walnut desk and shelves that were stuffed with every farming book, manual, and article he could collect. Unfortunately, his feet did not lead him toward the cluttered desk. Instead he discovered himself standing at the window as he blindly gazed at the fertile fields and rolling meadows.

It was a view that always filled his heart with quiet pride. It might not be the largest, most profitable estate in England. But it was his.

Today, however, he did not even notice the tidy cottages or recently cleared hedgerows. Instead his thoughts were once again wrenched back to London and the woman he had left behind.

Leaning against the thick wood of the window frame, Edward allowed time to slip past, barely noting when Mrs. Chester brought his tea tray and left it to grow cold on the study.

He was still standing there when he heard the footsteps entering the room and the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat.

A grimace twisted his features as he kept his back firmly turned. “Thank you for the tray, Mrs. Chester, but I am not hungry at the moment.”

“You really should eat, you know,” a soft female voice urged. “Your cook will be very disappointed to find her offering left untouched.”

Edward briefly squeezed his eyes shut. Had he at last tumbled over the edge into madness?

Was he hearing voices now?

If he turned, would there be no one there?

His question was answered as a familiar, unmistakable heat swirled through his body.

His reaction was real enough. Which could only mean that Bianca was real as well.

Waiting until he was certain he had managed to hide his shock, Edward at last slowly turned to confront the woman standing in the center of the room.

His breath caught at the sight of her. He had not forgotten her beauty. What man in his right mind could?

The perfect features, her exotic midnight eyes and raven curls. The manner in which the crimson carriage gown clung to her slender curves.

God knew they had haunted his thoughts often enough.

But it was the jolt of sheer pleasure at the sight of her that he had underestimated.

Thank God his muscles had clenched so tight he was unable to rush across the worn carpet and haul her into his arms.

“Bianca.” His voice came out shockingly flat. Strange considering his insides felt as if they had been tossed in a churn.

“Edward.”

“What the devil are you doing here?”

Unease fluttered over her pale countenance before she determinedly squared her shoulders.

“Obviously I came to see you.”

His shock began to recede, and a welcome dose of logic managed to wiggle its way through the fog. He had been so caught off guard by her arrival it had not occurred to him how it had been accomplished.

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“Good God.” His brows snapped together. “Have you lost your wits? The Duke will have me hung from the rafters. Or worse . . . gelded.”

She shrugged, not nearly as concerned with the danger to his manhood as she should be.

“My father and mother left yesterday for Surrey, where they await my brother’s impending heir. As far as they are aware, I am currently with Aunt Winifred in London.”

“And when they discover you are not?”

Moving toward the desk, she absently removed her chip bonnet and gloves and tossed them aside. His mouth went dry at the graceful sway of her hips. Among the shabby furnishings, she glowed like the finest jewel.

“I assure you my parents are far too preoccupied to take note of my absence, and my aunt is far too relieved not be forced to accompany me about town to question my sudden decision to join my parents.” She turned back to eye him with a guarded expression. “No one will know I am here.”

For a crazed moment, his body threatened open revolt.

The mere thought of having her alone and at his mercy stirred a primitive part of him that he had not even known he possessed.

Sucking in a deep breath, he grappled to retrieve his fading wits. Dammit. He did not even know why she was here.

Besides which, the last thing he needed was a bloodthirsty duke landing on his doorstep. Especially not one that might potentially be his father-in-law.

“This is madness. I cannot believe that even you would dare such a thing,” he scolded.

“What did you expect me to do? You were the one to flee London.”

His pride instantly rebelled at the implication of cowardice. “I did not flee.”

“No?”

“I have responsibilities here that cannot be entirely ignored.”

The dark gaze never wavered from his stiff expression. “You could not even bother to say good-bye?”

His lips twisted. “I was in something of a hurry.”

“And you wanted to hurt me?” she demanded softly.

“Is that even possible?”

She seemed to wince at his harsh words. “More than I ever imagined. Why else would I be here?”

He sharply turned away. He had been so bitterly hurt on the last occasion they were together that he had been capable of smothering his instinctive urge to toss good sense to the wind and simply gather her in his arms and never let her go.

Now he had to struggle to maintain even the hint of aloof command.

God, to have her here.

In his home, where he had imagined her being a hundred times before.

The reality unnerved him to the very depths of his soul.

“I am no longer foolish enough to even hazard a guess at what is in your mind.”

“Edward,” she breathed softly, making his heart clench with fierce need.

Heat and temptation stabbed through his body as she stepped close enough behind him to touch his back. Hell’s teeth. He had to get away long enough to collect his composure.

He could not possibly carry on a reasonable conversation while his body was thick and aching to possess her.

For the moment, retreat was the better part of valor.

“I must go.”

“Edward . . .”