The Convenient Bride (21 page)

Clayton
clucked his tongue and regarded the two ladies for a few long seconds. "I
must, must I?"

Agatha
scowled, her hands fisting at her sides. "Where is a parasol when one
needs one, for you certainly are in need of a good whack, my boy!"

Clayton
burst out laughing. "Very well. I will love her."

A knot
rose in Briana's throat. But did he mean it? Could she trust him? Was he
teasing her earlier, or even now?

"Very
good," Agatha said as calmly as if they were conversing over what horse
they were to buy at Tattersall's. "And finally, I want this promise from
both of you."

Clayton
looked at Agatha, his gaze narrowing. "We are listening, but if you
continue with this discussion, madam, your feet will not be able to hold up
that tree."

"Listen
to me, you young pup—"

Clayton
growled and took a step toward her. "Madam, for the purpose of your
safety, I believe we can continue our little talk in your chambers."

"Don't
you lay a finger on me!" Agatha scolded, her gray eyes widening. "I
can stand on my own two feet!"

Clayton
let out a manly chuckle and took another step toward her. "That remains to
be seen."

"Stay
where you are. I'm warning you." Agatha pushed herself off the tree.
"I can stand by myself, but as to my conditions, I must demand that you
will not allow Briana's mother to live with you."

Clayton's
eyes danced. "That is your stipulation?"

Briana
held her godmother's elbow. "Agatha, please."

Clayton
gave the older lady a wink.

Agatha's
gaze moved to Briana. "And what have you to say?"

Briana
wanted to crawl into a hole. "Mother won't like it. She will want to live
with me ... I mean us."

"Because
she has wanted you to marry Lord Clayton since you were a child? " the
lady replied coolly. "Because she wants to show her friends she is living
with the son of a duke? No, you will agree to this, child, or I will see to it
for you."

"Agatha,"
Briana pleaded.

"Fustian!
Your mother has her own home. She doesn't need to interfere with yours. Promise
me."

Clayton
turned to Briana, his eyes so full of understanding she wanted to cry. He
raised Briana's hand to his lips. "If you want your mother in our home, I
won't stand in the way. But she can visit as much as she wants. I
promise."

The man
had her heart and soul twisted into so many turns she thought she might spin on
her feet. "I will see that my mother has a place in our home, but not a
permanent one."

Agatha
smiled. "Good, then. I will see you two at church."

Clayton
kept his eyes on Briana. "And I will see you in the library after I
complete a small task. It's obvious this place is not as private as I hoped. We
can settle a few more things before we take our vows."

Before
Briana could reply, Clayton strode forward and swept Agatha into his arms.

Agatha
gasped in surprise. "I have no need of your help!"

He
grunted for emphasis. "Your goddaughter thinks you do."

Briana
exchanged smiles with him, and her heart soared.

"You
know, my boy," Agatha said, whacking him on the shoulder, "you remind
me of someone I used to know."

The
man's laugh held such tenderness that Briana felt her heart burst with love.

"I
do?" he said mischievously. "Well, madam, you should stay off your
feet, and I intend to see you do, even if it is for only thirty minutes."
He juggled Agatha in his arms and gave Briana a sly wink. "Are you a
gambling woman, Miss Appleby?"

"And
what if I am?" she said stiffly.

"I
will bet you a guinea I can make it back to your chambers within thirty
seconds. Never fear—most of the guests are attending some game in the village
or still in their bedchambers."

Agatha's
eyes grew as wide as the knot in the tree behind her. "You will do no such
thing! You arrogant puppy! Let me down!" The lady pushed against his
shoulders, but it was useless.

Instead
of listening to her protests, Clayton quickened his pace, dashing through the
garden with Agatha in his arms. Briana smiled. This was the Clayton she knew.
The Clayton she loved. And now it was the Clayton she was going to marry.

She
leaned against the old gazebo and caught herself. What was she doing wasting
precious time? Without anyone the wiser, she could try to open that writing box
before Clayton arrived.

In
truth, the transaction could already have taken place. That was, of course, if
there were any communication at all. But why would Whitehall send two women to
investigate? No doubt the superior agents were searching other places with more
convincing evidence. The source in this case was probably a vengeful nobody
bent on causing trouble for Lord Grimstoke.

Briana
gave a tired sigh. For the sake of England, she had to try.

Chapter
Seventeen

B
riana's wary gaze flicked to the
closed library door. She wished she had the key to lock it. How long before
Clayton appeared? And how many times would she find herself in a strange room
alone, waiting for someone to barge in and catch her at something? This entire
game was wearing on her already frayed nerves.

Her head
was in such a whirl, her heart felt as if it would jump out of her chest. She
was to be married within the hour and here she was, looking for a clue in a
possible assassination plot against the Prince Regent.

She
pulled the writing box onto her lap and lightly pressed one of the back
buttons. There was a sudden click and another drawer popped open beneath her
fingers.

Her
breath caught in her throat. The secret drawer! She lowered her head and peered
inside, her fingers searching for anything at all. Nothing!

Had the
missive already been retrieved, if there was one in the first place? Was she worrying
over nothing? Was Whitehall's source trying to mislead them? She just didn't
know.

Footsteps
sounded outside the room, and she hurriedly snapped the drawer closed. Clayton
was here sooner than she had expected. Agatha had probably whacked him a good
one.

The door
opened and she smiled. "You are earlier—"

Kingsdale's
wicked grin unnerved her, and she quickly rose from her seat.

"Ah,
Miss Garland, thought I saw you walk in here a minute ago. This is the meeting
place, is it not?"

Briana's
body tensed. Had he been watching her in the garden?

Of
course he had. He was always watching her. It seemed a little too convenient
for him to keep running into her, cornering her in any room where she happened
to be. He was stalking her like a beast circling his prey. There was no doubt
about it.

"I
thought you went into the village, my lord."

"Had
a bit of the headache, don't you know? Thought I would take a stroll about the
gardens. And by George, you would never guess what I happened upon."

"You
were eavesdropping?"

His dark
eyes flashed a warning. "I never eavesdrop, Miss Garland. Women eavesdrop,
my dear. Men... well, men hunt."

It took
all Briana's effort to stay calm. "If you will excuse me—"

He clicked
the door closed and strode toward her. "We find ourselves alone once
again. How fitting, don't you think?"

Too
fitting, she realized as she ignored his silent threat and tried to make her
way quickly across the room. The blood pounded in her ears as she passed him.
Did he have a key? Would he dare lock her in here? Or somewhere else?

Suddenly
his arm swung out, imprisoning her in his grip. He put just enough pressure on
her to keep her beside him. "It's no mere coincidence that I'm here, my
dear. Our meetings were never by chance. You were to marry me. Me—do you hear
me?"

His tone
was velvety soft and edged with such anger she shivered. "All I have done
up to now is for our future. Why couldn't you wait? Are you in love with the
man? Do you find him better than me?"

She
tossed her head back to glare at him. "My fiancé will be here any minute.
You had best unhand me, sir."

A
twisted smile spread across his face. "Well done, Briana. You have not
disappointed me. You are as fiery as your hair. We will do nicely
together."

The man
was mad!

Kingsdale
turned when the door swung open.

"Clayton,"
Briana said, her voice shaky. She sagged in relief as her fiancé walked into
the room. But that relief was short-lived when she saw Clayton's hostile
stance. It reeked of power and territorial domain. And the hardness in his gaze
could not be mistaken. He was definitely angry.

"If
you will please unhand my fiancée, Gregory, I will not have to shoot you."
Clayton's voice cut through the eerie silence, and Briana was instantly
released.

Kingsdale's
gaze slid over her like a slow caress. "Only showing the lady what she
lost, Clay. No harm done."

Clayton's
eyes turned an icy blue. "It seems you have been trying a great deal of
that lately. However, because I am to marry this lady within the hour, I would
advise you not to show your face in my presence for the remainder of our stay
here."

It
suddenly occurred to Briana that Kingsdale had known exactly what he was doing
all along. He knew Clayton was going to be here and see them together. The man
was as slippery as a snake, and to her horror, his plan seemed to be working
splendidly.

Kingsdale
chuckled. "What a pitiful show of strength, Clayton. I thought you could
do better than that. Besides, it was your fiancée who wanted me to meet with
her."

He shot
Briana a wink as if between lovers, kissed her hand and departed from the room.

Briana
held back a gasp. "I can explain," she said, hoping Clayton would return
to the same man she had known in the garden.

His
expression was thunderous. "Don't even try."

Briana's
heart sank.

"I
will meet you at church, Miss Garland. Whatever dealings we need to go over
will happen
after
the marriage." He didn't give her any time to
defend herself before he turned on his heel and strode from the room.

Within
the hour, Briana was married by special license. Agatha, Violet, Lord Grimstoke
and his wife were the only witnesses. The papers were signed and everyone returned
to the mansion without further ado.

Clayton
failed to mention the library incident at all. In fact, the vows were the only
thing she heard him say the entire time they were at church. When they returned
to Grimstoke Hall, the guests were delivered the news and an impromptu celebration
took place immediately.

"I
suppose we had you all fooled," Clayton said jovially, his hand on
Briana's waist. "But my dear wife and I had been planning to wed for quite
some time now. The archbishop's timely visit gave us the means to achieve what
we thought to do at a later date."

"Why
so quick about it?" one man exclaimed. "And by special license?
Afraid of her mama?"

Clayton's
clasp tightened. "We could not wait another day to be with each
other." He turned to Briana. "Could we, dearest?"

Briana
wanted to smack him. Instead she only smiled.

The
crowd cheered and all were given a glass of champagne.

As the
day dragged on, Briana felt trapped. She put on a happy face until later that
evening when she and her new husband were standing alone in Clayton's
bedchamber. The maids had quickly removed all her belongings to his room.
Briana was at one corner, Clayton at the other when he turned to her, his deep
violet eyes holding a glint of amusement.

Well,
she didn't think this funny in the least. "You—you can sleep on the
floor!"

Before
she could speak another word, he crossed the room and took her shoulders in a
gentle grip. "Come, Briana, I will not hurt you. But if we are to have a
marriage with any hope for the future, you must trust me and I must trust
you."

"Trust?"
she said in a suffocating whisper. "What reason would you have not to
trust me?" She blurted out the words before she thought about what she was
saying. He didn't know about her work. He could never know about her work.

"Let's
forget about Kingsdale. I know him for what he is. You would never seek him out
as he proclaimed. I was just well, jealous, and I do have a temper. As for me,
I intend to honor my vows, as I hope you will."

Confused,
Briana stared at him. "What are you saying?"

He
tipped her chin with his finger, and she caught a trace of bayberry. Could this
handsome, egotistical, wonderful man love her?

"It
seems I will have to make myself plain, then. I don't want you near Kingsdale
ever again. Is that clear?"

Her back
instantly straightened. "You don't trust me?"

"I
never said that."

"Yes,
you did." She shrugged out of his grasp and started for the door.

"Where
the deuce do you think you are going?"

"Out!"

"I
don't think so." In a flash he was beside her, blocking her departure. The
fact that he was now her husband did not help her circumstances in the least.

"Why?"
she stammered, glaring up at him, intensely conscious of his powerful body next
to hers. "You cannot truly think I am staying with you tonight? We—we
barely know each other!"

He
laughed, his violet-blue eyes burning a path straight to her heart. "I
have known you forever, dear wife. And yes, I am staying with you
tonight."

He
touched the bridge of her nose, outlining her freckles. A spark ignited between
them, and she saw his self-confidence rise. "You made your vows along with
me."

She
looked at a spot above his shoulder, anywhere but at those compelling eyes.
"Well, er, I wasn't thinking correctly."

He
backed her against the wall, his hands over each side of her face. "Well,
I am thinking correctly ... for the both of us. I told you before and I'll say
it again: I'm your husband and I love you. I think I began loving you when we
had our first waltz back at Elbourne Hall."

The
declaration sent her senses spinning. He loved her? Was it truly possible?

Her
knees felt weak as his mouth moved along her neck, making her shiver. It was
nearly impossible to remain coherent when he did this to her. In the back of
her mind, she knew his declaration of love made her afraid. Afraid of her
emotions. Afraid he would let her down. Afraid of her future.

"Fairy
Lady." He kissed her nose. "I was wondering if I made a wish on one
of those adorable freckles, would it come true?"

She
closed her eyes. "I cannot think properly when you are near."

"Ah,
you cannot think? That's called progress." He kissed her cheek.

Her eyes
flew open. "Stop that!"

He
laughed and moved his hand to the hollow of her back, fitting her against him.
Her head pressed against his chest.

"Do
you know what I wished for?" he whispered silkily.

She
tried to ignore the way he made her feel, but she couldn't help it. The
pounding of his heart echoed in her ears. She was definitely losing the battle.
"You... you are not playing fair, my lord."

"I
may be a gentleman, but I don't play fair all the time. Have you not talked to
Emily about me?"

She
nodded into his cravat, smiling.

He
paused, his breath oddly uneven. "I own you do not play fair either, my
red-haired nymph."

She
peeked up at him, knowing he was as affected by her as she was by him.
"Oh," she said coyly, "I always play fair."

His lips
curved upward. "Indeed? And what about that time you learned to
waltz?"

A smile
sprang to her lips as she thought about that wonderful summer at Elbourne Hall.
"It was the only way to learn the dance," she said mischievously.

He said
nothing, but only stared at her with such tenderness she wanted to weep for
joy.

She
cleared her throat. "Depend upon it, my lord husband. You were a very good
instructor. And I daresay much better than Mr. Summers."

He burst
out laughing and kissed her hard. "Then come dance with me again, my love,
not as a wide-eyed girl of sixteen but as my bride and as my wife in all
ways."

As his
bride? As his wife?

Briana
knew what he was asking. Her pulse quickened as the very air around them
stirred with excitement and promise.

His lips
seared a path to her soul. "Come. Be my wife."

Tears of
happiness pooled in her eyes.

"Briana?"
he asked worriedly.

A glow
of warmth spread through her as she smiled, infinitely aware of the gentleness
of this man. "Yes."

"Yes,
what?" he asked in a husky whisper.

She
reached out and touched his cheek. "I will be your wife in all ways."

His grin
was overpowering. "Then let us dance together."

With a
sigh, she rested her head against his shoulder. "Oh, Clayton."

He drew
in a sharp, smoldering breath, and in one fluid movement whisked her off the
ground and into his arms.

"Briana."
Her name was smothered with a kiss as he whispered his love to her. Her lips
trembled beneath his. She loved him with a power so wonderful she wanted to
weep. It was as if he had turned the key to her heart, unlocking the mysteries
of life.

She
became lost in her husband's lovemaking, and the night passed with nary a
thought about the mission or her duty to the Crown. All her thoughts were
centered on her husband, Lord Clayton Clearbrook. He might not be as perfect as
she recalled when she was sixteen, but he was her husband now in all ways, and in
spite of everything, she would always love him.

Early
the next morning, when Briana was just about to open her eyes, the door to her
bedchamber banged in her ears. With a gasp, she pulled the bedcovers to her
chin, immediately realizing her husband was not beside her, but was marching
toward her, his expression none too friendly.

She
blinked. In fact, his violet eyes were dark as midnight.

"What's
wrong?" she asked sweetly.

"I
have recently come from a meeting with your godmother,
wife
."