The Unintended Bride (4 page)

Miranda looked hopeful. "Perhaps he has truly captured her affections, then?"

Hero chuckled. "I doubt it. I think that Cousin Arthur was more likely the cause of her suddenly agreeable nature."

"Oh?" Miranda looked puzzled.

"He told Wyndham that Juliet had been eagerly awaiting his arrival."

Miranda smiled, and scolded him gently, "How bad of you, Arthur. You know she will not be pleased with you for that."

Arthur could not help an answering smile. "You should have seen Wyndham, though, my dear cousin. He was pleased as could be."

"Still, as penance, and to make amends for dropping in unexpectedly, I hope you will agree to leave your dusty books and escort us tonight to the Framingham's for a late supper and a little dancing, as Simon is otherwise occupied?" Miranda's eyes twinkled with mischief, but she was no doubt blissfully unaware of exactly how disastrous her invitation was for him.

Arthur did his best to hide the dread that gripped him at her teasing invitation. It was obvious Miranda knew his first inclination was to offer a polite refusal. But she had made that nearly impossible for him to do without seeming churlish.

Accompanying them would most assuredly mean he would cross paths with Gwen Delagrace. Not to mention his grandmother. "I would be delighted," he lied, with a courtly bow to both ladies. A small part of him hoped that he would find an adequate reason to excuse himself before the time came. The part of him that wasn't imagining what it would be like to taste Hero's sweet lips and thinking of the chance to dance with her.

With a smile as genuine as he could contrive, he watched as the duchess and her sisters came down the stairs in their finery. Hero's hair gleamed like fine mahogany in the light. The pink hue of her gown enhanced the pale cream of her skin. Too much skin, in his opinion. The fashion — which Miranda and Juliet wore also — was much too revealing in the bosom for his comfort. He had to force himself to look away from the gentle swell of her breasts, to push away thoughts of what it would be like to kiss her slender neck, and trail kisses down to that swell.

To his relief, they donned their wraps, so that he was not tempted any longer to throw his own jacket over Hero's shoulders and spirit her back upstairs. She wore nothing more daring than any other woman would. It was his own foolishness that made it seem so.

Miranda, sensing his tension, teased him. "Arthur, we are going to the Framinghams, not to the hangman. Please try to enjoy yourself."

"How can I not, when I am with three of the loveliest ladies in London?"

She seemed satisfied with his answer and did not quiz him further. Quietly, he listened to their chatter and tried to force his own mood to lighten. But he could only see that Hero would be nearby and yet still out of his reach all evening.

As the carriage moved forward, and he sat uncomfortably next to Miranda, across from Hero, he wonder the odds that his grandmother and Gwen would be at the Framingham's. Grandmama had been to school with Amalia Framingham. The odds were not with him.

Even if she was elsewhere tonight, Grandmama would now most certainly be told that he had come to London. She would not be pleased to find that he had not informed her. What excuse would she accept?

Uncharitably, and not really meaning it, he wished she would come down with the grippe. Then she would not only not be in attendance tonight, he would have an excuse for not visiting immediately. If he failed in his quest, she would hear nothing of his arrival until he was far away from London and home again.

Unfortunately, he spotted his grandmother from afar, her back to him, as they entered the room. He quickly excused himself from the Fenster women in order to face his grandmother down before she could work herself up into a formidable temper. Her back was to him as he threaded through the room. He could see she was lecturing Gwen Delagrace, who nodded obediently at his grandmother's warnings, as her eyes searched the crowd.

Gwen saw him first, and she broke into a smile so genuine that his grandmother instantly turned around, no doubt on the alert for an importunate but dashing fortune hunter. Her expression went from astonishment to suspicion to pleasure to rage in the space of an instant.

He bowed to the ladies. "Grandmama, Miss Delagrace, I have just arrived in London today, unexpectedly."

His grandmother wasted no time with pleasantries and remarked testily, "I should hope it was unexpected, if you have not even notified me."

"A summons I could not ignore." He did not want to say more, but he knew his excuse would need to be extreme in order to turn away her wrath.

"A summons?" Her eyes narrowed. "From whom?"

"A bookseller."

She sighed gustily. "Well, you are here now, perhaps you can tend to your book business quickly. Have you heard The Round Table Society has called a special meeting?"

"I have, Grandmama. And I plan to attend." He hadn't, of course, until he had spoken to Digby, but no need to reveal that to his grandmother.

"Good. Then I may hope you will be voted Knight Regnant." When she saw he would argue, she held up her hand and added peremptorily, "Why don't you take Gwen out driving tomorrow."

Gwen blushed, embarrassed by the obvious ploy to throw them together. "London is delightful, Arthur. I do hope you will be able to spend some time enjoying it."

"I'm afraid I have no time for anything but what I've come for. Perhaps I can manage to visit again in a month or so," he said, intending to do no such thing. He liked London for one thing and one thing only — the sheer number of bookshops it held.

"Of course." His grandmother looked as though she might argue, but then, surprisingly, she did not. "Well, I presume you can at least spare a moment to dance with the girl, then, can't you?"

Gwen blushed again and he spoke quickly to ease her embarrassment. "That is the reason I came over to you straightaway." He extended his elbow for her to take, as he added, "I would be honored to dance with the most beautiful woman here."

Gwen relaxed her tension, and he suspected she was relieved that the first bit of overt matchmaking was done with. No doubt, being a woman, she did not mind his grandmother's insistence. Fortunately, she had not pushed him, with unspoken pleas, sighing glances, or even — as his grandmother no doubt would have done — with outright demands. She seemed to understand that he was not ready for marriage.

As they moved away from his grandmother, his gaze caught Hero's full upon him. She held to Gabriel Digby's arm as he led her to the dance floor. His eyes caught on hers for a moment as she moved past him and he noted that she was pale as she nodded in acknowledgement, and then she quickly turned her gaze to Digby.

Gwen tugged his arm gently. "Is something the matter?" Surprised to find that he had stopped moving, he began to walk toward the dance floor again. "No."

As they reached the perimeter of the other dancers, he took her in his arms for the waltz and began moving awkwardly through the steps of the dance, trying not to pay any attention to Hero and Digby.

"He does dance well, doesn't he?"

Apparently, Gwen knew him too well. She had noticed where his glances fell. But he still pretended to misunderstand her. "Whom do you mean?"

"Gabriel Digby, of course."

"I hadn't noticed."

She laughed. "Well, I certainly have. After all the lessons that Papa and your grandmother have given me, I know an excellent dancer when I see one. And when I dance with him as well."

"So you have danced with him, then?"

"Of course. He is in town and you are not. And, as I said, he is a very good dance partner."

Arthur lost his footing for a moment and then regained it. "Unlike me, you are much too kind to say." He smiled. And then, as casually as possible, he added, "He seems to be set on Hero Fenster."

She stumbled slightly, apparently thrown off by his previous misstep, but recovered quickly. "What makes you say so?"

"He was visiting the Misses Fenster when I arrived today."

"Is that where you are staying, then? With the duke and his family?" He saw the concern in her expression. She knew him well enough to see that being the duke's heir was not something he felt comfortable about. "Do you think it wise?"

"I do not intend to be here long. A day or so, no more."

She smiled, and teased him. "Your grandmother will be disappointed. Each time you come to London, she hopes you will embrace your role as heir to the Duke of Kerstone."

"I hope that the duchess will soon make that role unlikely by providing my cousin with a healthy son."

"I hope the same — for your sake, Arthur." She changed the subject, apparently noticing that his glance had once again strayed toward Hero and Digby. "Do you think Miss Fenster returns Mr. Digby's regard?"

"Yes." He told himself to be honest. "He is an intelligent, sober man with good prospects."

She laughed, a soft sound he was familiar with. She thought he was being obtuse in a scholarly way. "You do not think she sees him in a more dashing light?"

He did not want Gwen to recognize the jealousy that ate at him, so he pretended to an impartiality he did not possess and conceded grudgingly, "Perhaps, he does have a look that some would consider handsome."

She said nothing for a moment as they both danced in the crush, careful of their toes. Then she laughed once more. "If I didn't know better, Arthur, I would say you were jealous of the man."

"Nonsense." Gwen knew him much too well.

"I can understand why," she added, to his alarm. But then her next words eased his worry. "He does seem to have all the characteristics your grandmother has tried to instill in you all these years. Honor. Valor. Chivalry. But so do you, though you refuse to see it in yourself."

She thought his jealousy was to do with the Round Table Society. Certainly, there was some truth in it. That realization stung. He looked at her sharply, wondering if she had said it because she was angry with him for not declaring for her once and for all. But her look was all sympathy. He said dismissively, "Grandmama has romantic ideals that have not been met for hundreds of years — if they ever were at all."

Her tone was still sympathetic, but her words were not comforting. "She does not think of them as myth, you know."

He lost his step again, and recovered, saying sharply, "Well, she must understand eventually that I will not meet her ideals, no matter what blood runs in my veins."

Her voice was softer still when she replied, "I'm sorry. I did not mean to make our first meeting in London unpleasant —

"I'm the one who owes an apology." The music ended, and he saw her back to his grandmother. "I don't want you to share my grandmother's misapprehensions, Gwen. You are much too sensible a girl to believe that I will ever live up to the mythic example of King Arthur."

"Oh, Arthur. I know you well enough to understand you. Haven't I known you forever? You are the older brother I never had. The son my father never had. Sometimes I — " Her voice broke off as they neared her father, as if she had meant to confide something else, something more, but did not want to risk her father overhearing.

"Sometimes you what?" For a moment he dared to hope that she would release him from their family's promise. Tell him that she had found another and would love him like a brother but did not want to marry.

She did not. Instead, her father gripped his arm. "Arthur, how good to see you in London."

"I am here for a brief time only." Arthur hoped to forestall an invitation to dine with them.

"So your grandmother has informed me." Gwen's father did not try to hide his frown. "I hope to hear all about this book that brought you to London. We will see you at dinner tomorrow?"

"I would be honored, sir," Arthur lied. It was hell to know it was time to settle things with Gwen, when all he wanted was to spirit Hero away with him and never see the city again.

* * * * *

He had called Gwen the most beautiful woman in the room. They had looked well dancing together. As if they were meant to be. Like their namesakes, Arthur and Guinevere.

Hero wanted to sleep. Her bed was soft enough, and she was not too warm. Juliet lay peacefully dreaming across the room, her breathing even. But sleep would not come.

Unwillingly, when she closed her eyes she saw Arthur dancing with Gwen Delagrace, just as he had been that evening. Gwen laughing and teasing him with utter familiarity and affection. Arthur had been distracted, she would swear it. Twice, she had met his eyes and looked away. Twice, she had found his eyes upon her and then, almost as if she had been mistaken, he had turned his head.

She pressed her face into her pillow. She was making herself into a madwoman with all this useless speculation. Every word, every movement, every look from Arthur Watterly, had suddenly begun to have import to her. Sheer foolishness, but she could not seem to stop herself.

She could not forget how sharp he had been to Digby in the drawing room that afternoon. Almost as if he were jealous. Was it possible? Could Arthur Watterly feel the same degree of connection to him that she found in his company?

Nonsense. He regarded them all with affection, that had been clear since the first time she had ever met him. He had been struck nearly speechless with Miranda's spirited attempts to create happily ever afters for everyone around her, and he was always deft at deflection when Juliet practiced her wiles upon him.

Tonight, at the Framingham's, he had been the conscientious escort and nothing more. He had danced one dance with each of them. No, he had danced two with Gwen, she reminded herself Only one waltz, but still, two dances. One more and everyone would have been certain he was on the verge of making the proposal that was so clearly expected.

So why did she persist in hoping that he felt more for her than he could say? More than he felt for Gwen? Just because he shared her own delight in the classics, as well as in the tales of King Arthur and his court? Just because he, too, preferred an evening spent in the library to one on the dance floor?