The Viscount's Bride Page 8

  The room was some sort of study lit only by the moonlight shining through the tall windows. There was a desk and two wing chairs and shelves on one side lined with books. She threw herself into one of the chairs and curled her legs under her.

  How could she have been so utterly stupid? And forward? She had behaved like the worst trollop, wearing a low décolletage, padding her bodice, luring him to the conservatory, begging him to kiss her. She had never dreamed anyone would follow them there. Instead, two persons had witnessed that humiliating scene.

  How long had they been there? Had they heard everything? That hardly mattered now, since she had already proclaimed that she had thrown herself at Kentworth. Brandt had looked at her with such icy contempt, she had no doubt she had made herself despicable in his eyes. And poor Emily! No wonder she had been so cold to Chloe. Why ever had she been so stupid as to not suspect Emily was in love with Sir Preston? If she hadn’t been so selfish she would have seen that Emily was exactly the sort of wife Sir Preston needed. Not some silly creature who could scarcely tell one end of a sheep from the other.

  She stifled a groan, and then froze when she heard footsteps and voices outside the study door. To her relief, they passed the room. She heard nothing for several minutes more. She supposed she should return to the ballroom before she was missed, but the thought of meeting Sir Preston or Brandt or Emily made her shudder. She was about to uncurl her legs from beneath her, when she heard more footsteps. She froze again, hardly daring to breathe. Surely no one would come into this dark study!

  She was wrong. Her heart pounded when the person moved into the room. She folded herself more tightly into the chair. The footsteps stopped.

  “Chloe,” Brandt said softly from somewhere behind her.

  She fought down her panic. Perhaps if she did not answer he would go away. He came around the side of the chair and looked down at her.

  “Please leave.” To her chagrin, her voice wobbled.

  “Are you in love with him?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Sir Preston. Are you in love with him?”

  “I…” She should tell him it was none of his affair, but instead she said, “I…I wanted to be. And he is the nicest man I know. I am very fond of him.”

  “Is that why you wanted him to kiss you? Because you are fond of him?” His voice was harsh.

  Her cheeks heated. “I do not know,” she whispered.

  “You do not know why you wanted him to kiss you? Do you know now?”

  She jumped up, her humiliation turned to anger. “Yes, I do know! I cannot see that it is any of your affair. I know you must think I am foolish and an utter wanton and undoubtedly hold me in contempt. But please do not make it worse by questioning me in such an odious fashion!”

  “I don’t hold you in contempt.”

  “Don’t you? I pray you will let me pass.”

  “No.” He caught her arm and pulled her around to face him. Her eyes had adjusted to the dim light and she could see his grim expression. “Did you like his kiss?”

  She stared at him, completely taken aback. The cool, amused lord she knew had vanished. “It…it was quite nice.”

  “Quite nice?” He gave a short laugh. “Is that all? Then allow me to give you something to compare it to.”

  Before she could even think, he had pulled her hard against him. He tilted her chin with one hand and then his mouth found hers.

  His kiss was nothing like Sir Preston’s. Or Lord Denbigh’s wet, repulsive kiss. Or the brutal, violation of her mouth so long ago. Her body seemed to meld with his; his warm, firm mouth moving over hers made her legs tremble so she was forced to cling to him. Her lips parted under his seductive pressure.

  He released her so abruptly she stumbled.

  “Hell,” he said.

  She backed away from him. “Oh, dear.”

  “Yes.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Damn it, Chloe, I did not mean to do that.” He wore the same pole-axed expression as Sir Preston had earlier.

  “Didn’t you? I…I pray you will not feel obligated to offer me marriage. After all, a kiss hardly obligates one,” she said brightly.

  His expression darkened. “No.”

  She backed away. “I…I should return to the ballroom.” The thought of facing Sir Preston and Emily was not as daunting as standing in this darkened room, the air heavy with a peculiar tension.

  “Chloe, wait.” He lifted his hand towards her. “Allow me to escort you.”

  “No. You have done enough.” She turned and dashed from the room before she could humiliate herself further.

  —

  Brandt stood in the study, feeling as if he’d been punched in the stomach. What the devil had happened? No, he knew exactly what had happened. He’d allowed his baser instincts to crash through all his carefully constructed control and he had kissed Chloe. Not just any kiss. He’d kissed her with all the fierceness of a passionate lover, nearly ravishing her mouth until some semblance of rational thought had broken through. No wonder she’d fled from him.

  All because of the searing, angry jealousy that had possessed him when he found her asking Kentworth to kiss her. He’d wanted to make her forget Kentworth’s kiss, erase any tendre she had for the man.

  Instead, he’d frightened her, which was undoubtedly for the best. Perhaps next time she asked for a kiss she would realise that not all men were as honourable as Sir Preston.

  This hardly banished his remorse. He had only confirmed her worst opinion of his character. It shouldn’t matter to him. She was far above his touch in every respect. Years ago, before he discovered what he really was, he might have allowed himself to fall in love with an innocent such as Chloe, but it was far too late for him now.

  Chapter Five

  Chloe rose, too nervous to sit, and went to look out of the drawing room window at the tidy garden behind the Coltranes’ house. Like the rest of the house, the garden was carefully tended with a profusion of flowers and shrubs. Even on this overcast day, it looked green and inviting.

  She twisted her hands together and hoped Emily would see her. After a restless sleep, she had decided she could at least try to make things right for Sir Preston and Emily. She had mustered all of her courage to come; Emily had witnessed her humiliation and, after Emily’s words to her last night, she held no doubts that Emily detested her. At least she could explain and try to make amends.

  Her stomach knotted even more when she heard footsteps. She turned, half-expecting to see the housekeeper, but instead Emily appeared. She wore a faded dress of yellow muslin but, despite its age, the style suited her. Her hair was pulled back in a simple chignon. Even with the smudge of mud on her cheek, she looked much more attractive than she usually did. Almost pretty, in fact.

  She looked warily at Chloe. “Mrs Potter said you wished to see me.”

  “Yes.” Chloe took a deep breath. “I wished to apologise to you.”

  Surprise flashed in Emily’s eyes. “Why? I would think you would wish an apology from me for calling you a wicked creature.”

  Chloe flinched, but did not look away. “No, because you were right. It was very wicked of me to try and…force Sir Preston into marriage with me. I did not realise it until last night.”

  “Are you in love with him?”

  The same question Brandt has asked her, but Emily had a right to know. “No. I thought I might be, but it was only because I wished to be. He is kind and decent and I can quite see how any woman would wish to marry him, but you are much more suited to him.”

  Emily flushed. “He does not notice me, so it hardly matters.” She twisted her hands together, a nervous gesture Chloe had never thought to see from her. “I thought about many things as well last night. I only want him to be happy. If you would make him happy, then he must have you.”

  “I do not think I would make him happy. At any rate, he does not care for me in that regard. I learned that last night as well.”

  “But you were sitting
alone with him. Quite close, in fact. Until Lord Salcombe showed up, that is. Then they argued and I was certain they were about to fight a duel over you.”

  Thank goodness Emily had not seen the kiss. Chloe gave a little laugh. “It was the most ridiculous thing. Lord Salcombe was angry because we were alone together. He blamed Sir Preston. When Lord Salcombe started to take me to task, Sir Preston accused him of insulting me and then I stepped in and told Lord Salcombe it was entirely my fault. Then they were both angry with me.”

  “I see.” Emily did not look quite convinced, but at least she did not seem inclined to argue.

  “So will you let me help you?”

  “Help me do what?”

  “Make Sir Preston notice you.”

  Emily made a little gesture. “Oh, no. I…I do not think that is possible. Besides—” she lifted her chin “—I have no intention of making a fool of myself over a man who does not care for me.”

  Chloe sighed. “It cannot be any worse than what I did. Besides, he does notice you. He has said the most complimentary things about you. I know he greatly admires your seat and light hands and your knowledge of farming.”

  Emily coloured. “But those are accomplishments that even Tom has. He does not notice me as a…a female. I know I am not pretty or graceful. And I hate most of my gowns. I always feel so ridiculous in lace and flounces.”

  “Lace and flounces are not suited to everyone. I think you would do much better in simpler styles. The gown you are wearing today is very becoming.”

  “This?” She made a face. “But it is so old.”

  “But the style is very nice for you. As is the colour. And I like your hair dressed in that particular fashion as well.”

  Emily flushed, looking strangely unlike her usual forward self. “Do you?” She looked at Chloe. “Oh, how I wish I was as pretty as you are! You do not know how jealous I have been of you!”

  “But I have red hair and freckles. I have always wanted to have a complexion such as yours. And your height. I am so tired of being short and ineffective!”

  “Ineffective? I would never say that!” Emily looked more like her blunt self again. “Do you really wish to help me?”

  “Yes. I do not have much time. I am to leave with Lord Ralston in two days, but we can at least find some gowns that would be becoming and dress your hair. I thought if you have some time today we could begin. Then you will be ready for next week’s assembly.”

  “I still cannot imagine why you would want to help me. I have not been nice to you at all.”

  “I have not been nice to you either. Or Sir Preston.” Chloe smiled a little. “At the very least I can try to help both of you find some happiness.”

  —

  Chloe cut through the shrubbery near Falconcliff and then found the path along the cliff above the sea. She had spent several hours with Emily going through her gowns, finally choosing one in peach moiré that suited Emily’s creamy complexion. Mrs Coltrane had helped, and they both agreed all the trim except two rows of flat ribbon should be removed. After that, despite Emily’s caustic comments, they arranged her hair in several ways and finally decided on a style that softened her rather broad face. Emily had stared at herself in the looking glass. “I look almost…pretty,” she finally said.

  Mrs Coltrane hugged her. “Oh, my dear child, you look lovely. If only you had listened to me before, but you are so stubborn! I hope you will from now on!”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “Mama!”

  At least that had been gratifying. Chloe bit back a sigh. She was dawdling because she dreaded returning to Falconcliff and the knowledge she was to leave soon. She should be spending as much time as possible with Julian, but it would only emphasise the reality of her leaving. She had decided last night that she would marry Lord Denbigh. What choice did she have? If she rebelled this time, there would only be another man. She could ask Belle and Justin for assistance, but they had already done so much for both her and Mama. If Arthur did as he threatened, then Belle and Justin would be forced to help not only her but her mother as well. They would be burdens until Chloe found someone else to marry.

  Engrossed in her thoughts, she did not hear the horse until it seemed to be upon her. She whirled around. Her heart leapt to her throat when she saw the bay horse and its rider. Her first impulse was to run but she could not do that. She had done enough running last night. She waited, trying to quell the nerves in her stomach as Brandt drew to a halt. His expression was hard to read as he looked down at her. “I want to speak to you for a moment.”

  “Oh.” She tried not to think of how he had kissed her, but it proved impossible with him looking at her like that.

  He dismounted in a graceful easy movement and caught the reins. “I will walk back to the house with you.”

  She nodded and started to walk. He fell into step beside her. “I wish to apologise for my behaviour last night. I did not behave as a gentleman. First I insulted you and then forced my attentions upon you.” He did not look at her.

  “I…I did not behave as a lady. I suppose you meant to teach me a lesson.”

  He swung around to stare at her, two spots of colour in his cheeks. “I was wrong,” he said flatly. “I should not have presumed to do any such thing. My actions were all that were despicable.”

  “I cannot blame you for thinking I was no better than a…a callous flirt. I should thank you for saving Sir Preston from a miserable fate.”

  “You wish to thank me?” He gave a short laugh. “I am attempting to beg your forgiveness for my damnable actions. Not accuse you.”

  She looked at him steadily. “You are not guilty. I know how wicked I was.”

  “Wicked? You?” He halted and faced her. “You are the least wicked person I know. If you thought that was what I meant last night, then I must doubly beg your pardon.”

  There was nothing of the flirt about him now. He was deadly serious, the intensity of his expression made her catch her breath. She looked away. “Then I will accept your apology.”

  “Thank you.”

  They walked the rest of the way to the drive in an uncomfortable silence. She almost wished he would tease her; anything would be better than this sense that unspoken words hung between them. She was relieved when they neared the side of the drive where he would need to turn to go to the stables. “Thank you for walking me home.” Her voice sounded much too high and breathless and she forced herself to look at him.

  “Yes.” He hesitated a little. “I hope we can be friends.”

  “Friends? Oh, yes. That would be nice.” What a completely inane thing to say. She rushed on. “I hope you will enjoy living in Devon. I will own I was quite jealous when Belle told me you had bought Waverly. I always thought of it as my house. So ridiculous.” Whatever had possessed her to say such a stupid thing?

  An odd expression crossed his face. “It is not at all ridiculous.” He hesitated. “You are welcome to visit, you know.”

  “Perhaps.” She felt rather sad. It was unlikely she ever would. She had no idea what her life would be when she was married to Lord Denbigh. She gave him a bright smile and held out her hand. “Goodbye, Lord…Brandt.”

  He took it. “This isn’t quite goodbye, is it? We will see each other before you leave. There is the picnic tomorrow. Marguerite has persuaded me to have it near the old chapel at Waverly. I would be more than pleased to show you the house as well then.”

  The almost boyishly eager expression on his face made her want to weep. Perhaps if they had met under different circumstances, they could be friends. There would not be a moment like this again when for once, they were in perfect accord. Tonight, they would meet at dinner and she would have her defences firmly in place. He would revert back to the impenetrable, cool lord. She smiled anyway. “I would like that.”

  “Chloe.” He hesitated as if he were about to say something else and then dropped her hand.

  She turned and had started up the wide shallow steps when the door opened. Lady
Kentworth marched out, head high, her lips set in a thin, angry line. Her furious gaze fell on Chloe. She came down the first step, forcing Chloe back. “You! You may think that because you are an Earl’s daughter you are too high and mighty for the likes of us! I shall make you very, very sorry for the brazen way you trifled with my son!” She sailed past Chloe, who stood stricken against the pillar.

  She finally moved and stepped into the cool entrance hall and saw Arthur standing in the door of Justin’s study. As if drawn by a magnet, his gaze fell on her.

  “I would like to see you now,” he said coldly.

  “I must change.”

  “Now.”

  The look on his face did not bode well. Without a doubt she knew last night’s débâcle had come to his ears. To complete her humiliation, Justin now emerged from the study. At the same moment, Belle came down the stairs. “Chloe, there you are, thank goodness. We have been worried.” She glanced at Arthur and then back at Chloe. “But first you must go upstairs and change. And rest.”

  Arthur came up to Chloe’s side. “I intend to speak to her now.”

  Belle lifted her chin. “She needs to rest.”

  Arthur’s lip tightened. “I intend to find out exactly why that creature seems to think Sir Preston has compromised Chloe, before she starts to spread her lies about the neigh-bourhood.”

  “Arthur! Not now. You are distressing Chloe,” Belle said.

  “Indeed. She will be even more distressed when her reputation is ruined.” He turned a cold gaze on Chloe. “So, my dear Chloe, perhaps you will tell me whether Sir Preston compromised you last night or not.”

  Chloe wanted to sink. “He did not…that is, I…”

  “Chloe was not compromised.” Brandt’s voice broke into her disjointed speech. He suddenly appeared at her side.

  Chloe jumped and Arthur swung his gaze to Brandt. “What do you know of this?” he demanded.

  Brandt met his eyes. “I was there.”

  “Precisely where is “’there’”?”