The Convenient Bride (17 page)

Briana
held tight to her godmother's hand as the woman lay in bed. Agatha looked pale
and worn, much older than her years.

"Wish
I could help," the lady murmured. "So tired . . . wasn't given any
more orders ... could be nothing ... nothing at all." Her tired eyes
regarded Briana in a new light. "New gown? Mustn't wear that... too much
attention ... won't fade at all . . . "

Briana
rested a cool hand against her godmother's forehead. At least the woman noticed
the gown was not Briana's usual attire. Agatha's senses were still acute.
"You'll be better soon. Don't hate me, dearest, but I must tell you that
your drinks have been laced with laudanum."

Agatha's
lids opened wider, though Briana could tell she was fighting sleep. "Thought
it was my head wound," she mumbled.

"Now,
now," Briana said in a defensive tone as the lady tried to sit up.
"We did it for your own good. You mustn't try to stand. That ankle of
yours is still quite swollen."

Briana
knew that if they hadn't laced Agatha's drinks with laudanum, she would have
tried to get out of bed and would have further injured her ankle. Still, Briana
wondered if the laudanum should never have been given. She frowned.

She knew
as much about head wounds as she did about cooking a pig. Tomorrow she would
have the laudanum stopped.

She
gently stroked her godmother's brow as the lady's lids drooped. "And you
mustn't worry about our mission. I will keep looking. If there is something in
the library, I will find it. Perhaps one of the guests—"

Agatha's
hand reached for hers. "No..." She was struggling to stay awake.
"Must... tell... his lordship ..."

Briana
smiled and nodded, trying to comfort the lady. She could easily believe her
godmother had put Lord Clayton in charge of her. "Yes, yes, we can talk
later."

With a
sigh, the lady drifted off to sleep before she could say another word. Briana
didn't like the ashen color of Agatha's skin or the circles beneath her eyes.
But it was the frightened look in her godmother's gaze that truly bothered her.

Briana
departed from the room, leaving the maid to return to Agatha's side. There was
no doubt in Briana's mind that Agatha had planned to keep her from the hunt.
The lady would have devised some way to keep her busy while she herself did the
real snooping. But now everything had changed. And it was not the first time
Briana wondered if the carriage accident could have been planned.

Suddenly
the sweet scent of bayberry drifted toward her, reminding her of summers at
Elbourne Hall and Clayton.

"How
is she?"

Briana
glanced up to see him waiting in the hall. Something flickered in the back of
his eyes. Worry? Or was he still angry over her stupid remark this afternoon?
Or was it that kiss? Why had he done it? But the real question was why had she
not stopped him? She should have. Whitehall's assignment was much more
important than her ambivalent feelings toward some handsome gentleman who could
charm her with nothing but a look.

"She's
a bit drowsy, but I think she's on the mend."

His
violet eyes softened. "She's tough. But I was afraid without that blasted
parasol by her side, she might wither away."

Briana's
lips quivered as she struggled to look at him. They had said nothing about the
kiss earlier. Yet there was an awkwardness between them now, more so than when
he had proposed marriage.

"What
is it?" he asked.

She
shook her head. He seemed to truly care for Agatha, and that touched her
deeply. "Nothing. I'm just worried about her."

"I'll
make certain she has the best of care."

"Well,"
she said, trying to end the conversation, "perhaps I will see you
tonight."

"You
should rest." His eyes darkened and slid over her in a critical manner, as
if she looked like some rag doll left in the gutter. The air about them
sizzled.

She was
furious at the way he could play her emotions. Why was he doing this to her?
"Perhaps you should see to your bride. Word has it that you are searching
for one."

His lips
curled into a charming smile. "Jealous?"

He
infuriated her. "Why would I be jealous?"

He took
one step forward, she took one step back. He chuckled, causing the skin to
crinkle about his beautiful eyes.

"Not
so sure of yourself?" he asked, capturing her gaze.

She
stiffened. "You think this a game? Well, it isn't. That—that kiss this
afternoon meant nothing. I have better things to do than humor you, my lord. Go
find a wife who will live in the country and bow to your commands, for it
surely won't be me." Lifting her chin a bit higher, she turned and started
for the stairs.

"Best
strike her off your list, cuz. Don't think she takes kindly to your wooing
efforts."

Clayton
swung around to look toward the end of the hall where Sir Gerald was lounging
against the wall, his face half hidden behind a pair of potted palms.

"Oh,"
his cousin said, stepping out of his hiding place, "don't you know? I
requested a chamber close to yours."

"No,"
Clayton said coolly, "I didn't know."

"Must
say, was terribly convenient having my bedchamber beside these palms." His
cousin tilted his head toward the stairs. "By Jove, have to give her
credit, though. Somehow the chit found out about your plan and threw it back in
your face."

He
flicked a piece of lint off the sleeve of his jacket. "She the first
female to tell you no?" He looked up, his eyes gleaming with pleasure.
"The thing of it is, cuz, it gives me devilish satisfaction to think
so."

"You
were always a sneak, Gerald," Clayton said in a clipped voice. "But
on my honor, I vow you will not have the castle."

"On
your honor?" Gerald's gaze traveled over Clayton from his well-polished
boots to his neat-fitting riding jacket. "I say, this is indeed a
surprise. Honor for a man who would wed for the sake of money?" The man
adjusted his neckcloth. "Don't flatter yourself. It's not honor, it's
plain greed. I have no doubt about that."

He
laughed, pulling out his watch. "Heard you have been paying mind to Miss
Cherrie Black. Word has it she will arrive today. Her mama is determined to
marry her off, cold or not. Perhaps I shall make it known that you want to wed
her for the sake of that dingy old castle. What say you to that, old boy?"

Gerald
narrowed his eyes on his breeches, brushing a hand across them. "Come to
think of it, you might have another no from a woman. Won't that be a record?
Perhaps we should take bets at White's. Upon my word, cuz, I may take it up to
inform everyone here about your little bride hunt."

Clayton
treated the man to one of his most condescending glares. "Even if the
story comes out, I won't have far to look for a ready female. In fact, I have
ones on my list who would marry me tomorrow. But you know my character so well,
don't you? I do so like to look over my prospects before I make a choice."

His
cousin scowled. "Depend upon it, cuz. I'm going to make it deuced hard for
you to marry anyone."

Clayton
wished to throw the man out the window. Instead he hit him where it hurt.
"Do as you like, but... "

Gerald
lifted a proud brow. "But what?"

"Pray,
do not wear the maroon-colored waistcoat. Makes you look like a puffed-up bird
who ate too many prunes."

Two
spots of crimson dotted Gerald's cheeks as he snapped a hand to his perfectly
fitted waistcoat. "Well, I never."

Clayton
started down the stairs, laughing. "Oh, you can depend upon it, cuz. I
never would either."

Chapter
Fifteen

"
I
think Lord
Clayton is in love with you," Violet said, twirling a finger about her
curls as she sat on Briana's bed.  "And I daresay all the gentlemen will
adore that beautiful gown you are wearing, especially what's in it."

Inwardly
Briana frowned. She was seated at the writing desk, finishing a letter to her
mother. Darn Emily and her plans. The silver green gown she wore was the
highest-cut dress she could find for this evening, but it set off her features
perfectly, making it impossible for her to become invisible.

Briana
had found a note from Emily tucked inside her fan. Her friend wished Briana a successful
house party and hoped she wasn't angry for Emily's intervening in such a
delicate matter. The dear lady had no idea she had wreaked havoc on Briana's
cover.

Although
Briana was flattered by Violet's comments, she knew that in a few minutes the
soirée would begin downstairs and she would probably run into Lord Clayton. She
didn't want to think about him or the way he made her feel. She had to set her
sights on her mission, not on some spoiled lord who didn't care for rejection.
But hiding from anybody in this gown, or any of the gowns in her wardrobe, was
nearly impossible.

Folding
her letter, Briana looked across the room. She was becoming increasingly uneasy
about using her relationship with Violet to further the mission. If her friend
were to gain any inkling of what Briana was doing, she would be hurt beyond repair.

"Lord
Clayton is concerned about himself, like many of the lords I know." But as
she said the words, she knew it wasn't totally true. He had cared for Agatha.
He loved Gabrielle. He had invaded her heart, whether she wanted it or not.

"He
didn't seem as if he was concerned about himself in the library." Violet
squinted. "Is he a hateful rogue, then?"

Briana
sealed the letter, her mouth quivering with mirth. "No."

Violet
giggled and jumped off the bed. "I knew it. He is divine." She
clapped her hands against her cheeks. "Oh, if Papa had caught you today,
you would be married in no time."

Briana
was certainly glad it had been Violet and not Lord Grimstoke who had walked in
on her. She had heard the stories. Her host could be persistent when he wanted
to be.

"I
am not marrying him."

"Then
what were you doing kissing him in the library?"

"He
caught me in a weak moment. In fact, the man took me off guard when I
accidentally knocked your father's writing box onto the floor."

Violet
gasped. "Is it broken?"

"No,
I put it back on the desk. There might be a scratch or two, though. I really
didn't mean to damage it. Is it an heirloom of sorts?"

"Father
received it two years ago from his aunt who traveled all over the world. He
says it's made of Brazilian rosewood. It was her last gift to him before she
died."

"Oh,
Violet, I feel dreadful."

"We
won't tell him what happened. I do it all the time."

Briana's
stomach turned at the thought of Lord Grimstoke knowing she was hovering about
his desk. Being in his library was one thing; handling his personal effects was
quite another. "But what if he sees the scratch?"

Violet's
brows knitted into a frown. "I can tell him I was looking for those secret
drawers he told me about and I dropped it by accident."

Briana
tried to keep her voice calm. "Secret drawers?"

"Yes.
When one opens the box, there is a writing surface and another drawer for pens
and whatnot. But below that are two secret drawers."

"Have
you seen them?"

Violet
shook her head. "I read my aunt's letter and Papa said something about
them in passing. But I have tried everything to disengage whatever springs my
aunt mentioned. One never knows what you could find in a secret drawer."

Briana
put a hand to the pearl necklace at her throat and peered into the looking
glass. "Yes, one never knows."

"Do
you know, my lord, I adore Northern England. My mother's family is from
there."

Clayton
gazed down at Miss Cherrie Black as they paired up for the country dance.
"I take it you have been speaking to my cousin, Sir Gerald?"

She gave
him a sly glance and sniffed. Her nose was still pink from her cold. "I am
not without a heart, my lord. But I would prefer a marriage of convenience,
too, if you must know the truth. I was rather relieved when your cousin told me
about your quest for a fitting bride. Love is such nonsense, you know. My parents
go their separate ways and are quite content in their relationship."

Clayton
knew her parents. Though a gentleman of High Society, Sir John Black was a
red-nosed drunk who made visits to the opera quite frequently, and not for the
singing entertainment. His wife was a flighty female who gossiped about everyone
in the
ton
.

Clayton
wondered about the lady in his arms. Though her parents were not perfect, they
were from a decent family line and the lady seemed well adjusted. But now he
wondered. Her thoughts on marriage were beginning to trouble him.

He might
want a marriage of convenience, but her point that love was nonsense was just
not true. It might not be for him, but his siblings had marriages based on
love, and they were doing quite fine indeed.

"I
knew the moment Sir Gerald spoke to me that he has other plans than to see you
married," she said boldly. "Does he?"

Clayton's
lips thinned as he parted from the lady, then returned to her side. Was this
the kind of marriage he actually wanted? A marriage without love, without
respect? And who was to say his wife wouldn't turn to another man? The thought
of Miss Garland and Kingsdale made him grit his teeth.

"You
are quite perceptive, Miss Black. My cousin will inherit the castle if I do not
marry by the allotted time."

"And
you need a wife before then," Miss Black said, smiling.

"You
would not mind?"

Was that
greed he saw in her eyes? Miss Garland's sparkling green gaze filled his thoughts,
and he frowned at the difference between the two women.

"Is
this a proposal, my lord?"

"No,
but as long as we are being frank with each other, it seems the next logical
question."

"I
would not at all mind being a convenient bride. As I said before, my parents
have a similar arrangement. Mama visits her friend in the country and Papa his
friends in Town."

Clayton's
brows arched as they parted again. She had just confirmed his very thoughts.
"Your mother has friends?" he asked when they reunited. "Or should
I say friend?"

The lady
blushed as the music ended. "My lord, you know what I mean."

Clayton
bowed and handed her to her next partner. "Indeed, I do, Miss Black.
Indeed, I do."

Hoping
Lord Kingsdale had forgotten her stupid remark earlier this afternoon, Briana
shifted her gaze from the dance floor to the dandy making his way to her side.

Violet
made the introductions. Ah, Sir Gerald. So this was Lord Clayton's cousin. They
certainly didn't look alike.

The
slightly built man standing before her was clothed so neatly, so exactly, she
wondered how long it took him to dress. His stiff collar points seemed to be
touching his ears. Some would call him handsome, but to Briana he had an
annoying habit of flicking imaginary pieces of lint off his clothes when he
thought no one was watching.

"I
heard you had quite a journey to Grimstoke Hall," Sir Gerald said, taking
Violet's seat as she walked onto the dance floor with another gentleman.

Briana
regarded the man with a thoughtful stare. Anyone here could be involved in the
plot against the Regent, even this gentleman sitting beside her. For all she
knew, he could have planned their accident. "Yes, it was quite a turn of
events."

"Terrible.
Terrible. You were quite fortunate Lord Clayton came along when he did."
He picked a speck of fuzz off the chair. "Quite fortunate indeed."

Briana
turned her eyes upon the dancers. Clayton was coupled with a pretty blonde who
seemed rather attached to him. Her heart constricted. It was Miss Cherrie
Black. A marriage of convenience was exactly what the woman was looking for.

"Heard
you had a slight injury to the head, Miss Garland."

"Nothing
significant."

"And
did I hear Grimstoke's daughter correctly? You are not dancing?"

"No,
I am not, sir."

He sat
meticulously straight in his chair, careful not to wrinkle his jacket. "I
see. And Miss Appleby's injuries?"

Briana
clasped her fan tightly in her hand. She needed an excuse to venture to the
library to take a look at that writing box one more time. And she didn't like
this man asking questions. He was bold, obnoxious, and beginning to vex her.

"My
godmother is mending slowly."

He
leaned toward her, his breath smelling of mints and brandy. "How very
dreadful for you. May I take this moment to express my deepest sympathies. If
you need anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask. I happened to acquire
the chamber a few doors down from yours."

Briana
snapped her fan shut and glared at him. "Sir!"

He
shrugged. "Upon my word, you have no reason to act the prude with me, my
girl."

"And
what do you mean by that?" she hissed through her teeth.

"You
gave your kisses freely to Lord Clayton—why not me?"

The
hungry gleam in his eye only enraged her more. "I think you should
leave."

He bent
over to rub a scuff off his shiny black shoes. "I heard you speaking to
him in the hall, Miss Garland. Passing up marriage to a Clearbrook is not at
all the thing, you know. A son of a duke. My word. What were you
thinking?"

He shook
his head regretfully. "Perhaps you find marriage offensive. Can't say I
blame you. That family is a bit stuffy. I came to Elbourne Hall once and was
never invited back. That's how it is with those people."

He
flicked a piece of hair off his knee and rubbed his nose. "Of course, Lord
Clayton's immediate situation may appall you. I, on the other hand, have no
pressure to marry. Ever."

Briana
gritted her teeth, her patience with this man quickly thinning.

Finally,
he rose, took her hand and bowed over it. "Think about that, my dear
girl." His eyes devoured her. "Perhaps we could get along
nicely."

Briana
yanked her hand from his. She had never been so insulted in her life. Perhaps
having Agatha by her side had added a little to her reputation after all.

"Miss
Garland, I believe you promised me a dance."

Briana
looked up and decided Lord Kingsdale was the lesser of the two evils. She had
stupidly agreed to a dance with the man, had she not? Besides, he could do
nothing to her on the dance floor. He wasn't a fool.

"She
ain't dancing, Kingsdale," Sir Gerald said in a pompous tone. "Had a
head injury the other day, don't you know."

Briana
rose swiftly, managing a brittle smile. "My lord," she said, putting
out a stiff hand toward Kingsdale, "you're late."

Kingsdale
took her hand. "Detained by business, my dear. Forgive me."

"But
you said you did not dance, Miss Garland," Sir Gerald sputtered.
"Y-your injury."

Briana
gazed at him with a look of reproach. "I never said such a thing, my lord.
You only assumed it to be so."

Sir
Gerald rambled on about injuries and fatalities as Kingsdale swept Briana into
his arms for a waltz. Her head still ached, but she was not about to sit out
the evening with nincompoops like Sir Gerald hounding her. And what did he mean
by fatalities?

"He's
an idiot," Kingsdale said with a scowl.

"Indeed,
but I don't think he knows it." Briana didn't like being in Kingsdale's
arms, and she immediately wondered if she would have been safer with Sir
Gerald. That knock to her head must have scrambled her brain. Nevertheless, she
had to temper her anger or she would never rid herself of this man.

"What
made you change your mind about dancing with me? Was it Lord Clayton? Or that
peabrain we left behind?"

"I
said I would dance with you and I am doing so."

"You
were never a good liar, my dear. In fact, that is one thing I liked about
you."

His eyes
darkened as he tightened his hold on her. "Afraid?"

"This
is just a dance between two people, my lord, nothing more."

Irritated,
Briana avoided his gaze by looking over his shoulder, only to catch sight of
Clayton staring directly at her. She faltered a step.

"Tired?"
Kingsdale said, still holding on to her elbow when the music ended.