Accidental Fiancee (17 page)

It was definite. She loved him with all her heart. It was the complete trust in another person, an overwhelming feeling of safety and coming home. Putting someone else’s welfare over your own even if it meant your life. But she could not tell him that, and he would not permit her to even explain the rest. It was not the way they had planned it. She had promised she would not fall in love with him. It was what the entire relationship was predicated upon. And it was clear that even Brandon was ready for the end of their idyll. She would keep her promise to him at the cost of her heart.

* * *

Brandon could not remember ever being so angry at anyone. It had hit him between the eyes—he was so angry because he loved her so much. She had promised she would never put herself in such danger again and she had broken her word. He’d waited and waited patiently for her to tell him beforehand. So many times he’d wanted to tell her that he’d seen her in the jewelers, but he wanted her to trust him enough to tell him on her own. How could he have ever imagined such a scheme was afoot? He wanted her to trust him, to need him as much as he did her. He wanted her to love him as he loved her, to distraction.

How had he ever thought himself in love before? When he wasn’t with her, he wondered what she was doing. When caught in the middle of a humorous situation, all they had to do was make eye contact and she understood. If she was not with him, he could not wait to tell her. His life revolved around her.

He had grown used to life revolving around
his
desires. His work with the orphanages was a priority, but everything else was by his choice—what to do, where to go, who he wished to be with. Now there was no question; he wanted to be with Grace. But he wanted her to trust him. He had been a fool to believe that this time what he wanted might actually be within his grasp. After all, it never had been before.

He had promised she could walk out of the betrothal. But he had expected it all to end with an open quarrel—as agreed upon and planned. He had never expected Grace to go behind his back, to lie to him for any reason. And he already knew she could never love him. Lord Langdon had tried to make Brandon believe he could be worthy of her love,
was
worthy of her love. But Grace had to feel that way, as well, and he knew she did not.

When he took her home that night, he’d let her down from his carriage stoically. After he led her to her front door, he had turned and left without a word. He was afraid of what he might say if he tarried. She could have been killed, probably would have been killed if he had not followed her there. She was so reckless. It was not to be borne. And even then he did not speak, because he was afraid he would crush her in his arms, telling her, and her God, how grateful he was for her safety.

So he took his anger out on the blackmailer. He headed straight back to Whitefriars and went immediately to the barge. The captain led him to the corner where the man was cringing in fear. Brandon spent over an hour getting every detail out of the miserable cur. He knew the blackmailer hoped he had forgotten about the emeralds in his hurry to see Grace safe. Brandon had purposely let the sniveling excuse for a man believe he would be able to either buy himself off the captain’s ship or sell the jewels to live as a rich man when they reached the Americas. It had been a pleasure to tell him the emeralds were paste.

Great as his amusement was in that moment, the time preceding it had been more soberly spent as he learned all he could of Patrice Winslow’s involvement in the scheme. Would she truly go to such lengths? Could she have threatened Grace’s life as well as his own in a plot to get him back? He did not want to believe she was capable of it. But he got enough information from the man to confirm it, and all it did was fan the flame of his anger.

There were details he had to look into before confronting Patrice, and he decided he needed to do that before he saw Grace again. It might lessen the feelings that had wrought such fear in him at the thought of her there alone.

* * *

It was the night of Lord and Lady Hilliard’s ball and Brandon was supposed to escort her. She did not feel like attending such a gathering in her state of mind, but Aunt Aggie was a little under the weather and Lydia needed a chaperone. Would she see Brandon there? She did not know—nor did she know how she might respond to the sight of him, or him to the sight of her. She had been ready to end the connection, but now that she knew the night at the dock was the last time she would see him, she wished she had not pressed for it. Yet the matter was out of her hands now. He was done with her.

Lord Hendricks greeted them as soon as they were through the receiving line. He graciously kissed Grace’s hand, then turned adoring eyes to his betrothed.

“Lydia, love, you look rather fetching tonight,” he said, and winked at her. He was the perfect man for her. Lydia’s beauty was not the reason for his love. “May I have the pleasure of this dance, darling girl?” Lydia put her hand into his, but they did not move on. “Grace, may I take you to your first partner? I have not seen Brandon yet.”

“No, do go on. I was not sure I would attend, so have the luxury to greet friends.”

They left her and Grace caught snatches of the sweet endearments they whispered to each other as they walked away. Tears welled up in her eyes. Brandon would never say those things to her; well, never say them and mean them. She missed him so much. How would she cope back at the Abbey, where there was not the smallest hope of seeing him, even catching a glimpse of him?

It was as if God heard the question as a prayer, as she saw him across the room. He must have come in after her as she’d wandered aimlessly about. Her first thought was to go to him. She started his way, then stopped. He likely had no desire to see her or talk to her. Would he cut her publicly?

A group of young people who had been waiting for the next set moved toward the dance floor, and her view of him was no longer obstructed. There he stood, with his head bowed low, listening to the whispers of
Lady Winslow!

It broke her heart into a million pieces. She knew he was angry at her, but he’d been there that night. He knew the truth about what Lady Winslow had done. Yet he was still tantalized by the woman who had threatened to kill him
and
her! The pair stood there, close as inkle weavers, when he had gone without so much as a word to Grace in days. She watched as he put out his hand to lead Lady Winslow through the French doors next to them.

Grace began to inch her way around the crowd of dancers, hoping to follow them outside. It sunk her beyond reproach in her own eyes, but she had to know what they were doing, what they were saying to each other.

* * *

“Brandon,” Patrice said huskily, “to what do I owe this honor? Do not tell me there is trouble in paradise?” She smiled seductively. “Has your country maiden bored you so soon?”

She pouted and pressed closer to him. “I know I should not forgive you so quickly. Indeed, I ought to make you beg, but I cannot. I knew you would come back to me, so I will not waste the time.” She gazed up into his eyes and he put her arm in the crook of his and led her outside.

Once there, he let go of her and leaned back against the balustrade on the veranda, with one leg bent at the knee. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the garden to the left. He wanted her to squirm, to worry about his actions. “It occurs to me, my dear...” he uttered in a low voice, then turned to look at her. “You seem to know quite a bit about my engagement, do you not?”

“I know she was too provincial for a man like you, Brandon. You need a more sophisticated woman who can, shall we say, keep your interest,” Lady Winslow drawled. “And you were coming to the conclusion that the woman you needed was me, before you left for your house party. When you came back engaged, I admit I was angry, but then I realized it was just a matter of time until you induced her to cry off.”

“But, Patrice,” he said, with no indication of his inner mood, “you know I fell head over heels in love with Lady Grace. Why would I want her to cry off?”

“You know you did not—” she said quickly, then retraced her steps. “I mean, you barely knew her, by all accounts I heard. I was sure it could not be serious.”

“I believe you started to say something entirely different, Patrice. You started to say I ‘did not’ what?” His eyes bored into hers and he didn’t know how long he could play this part without strangling her. “You started to say that I met Grace at an inn, and not at her father’s home. You started to say I had never even been to her home.”

“I do not know what you are talking about, Brandon. I just knew you could not want
her!
” She started to walk down the steps, but he stopped her with his voice.

“But you do know what I am talking about, my dear. You see, I know everything. I know about the blackmail attempt. You must not mistake me, I said
attempt.
I believe you will find my perspicacity quite astounds you. Let me see, yes, I know that you have been interrogating Lady Grace’s father.” It was getting harder with every word to remain calm. “And I know you threatened my betrothed with my death if she did not turn over the Weston emeralds to your lackey.”

His companion had not moved and he said, with his finger tapping his chin, “The only thing I do not know, Patrice, is how you planned to use the emeralds. You certainly could never wear them. I am the only person who could put them around your neck without raising the law against you. So, was it for money, then?” He continued, more at ease now that they were getting to her part in the crime. “No, I think it could not have been for that. They are too recognizable to sell, and I’ve investigated your finances. Seems old Winslow left you pretty well set up. No, the trouble of trying to sell something so easily identifiable would not be worth the risk simply for money you do not need.”

He stood up straight now, with his arms still crossed over his chest. “Therefore, I can see only one reason for the whole sordid attempt. You were trying to discredit Grace. Apparently, you were not
so
sure I would tire of her, after all.”

She turned back toward the house, whipping the train of her gown down the steps behind her. She tried to walk past him, saying, “I do not know what you are talking about. Your country mouse has your emeralds, not me.”

He grabbed her arm tightly and turned her to face him. “Did you never wonder why your minion did not bring them to you? Or perhaps you did not even care if he ran off with them, because you still could have brought to light that Lady Grace had lost my family heirlooms.”

He gripped her arm tighter. “Had the
emeralds
fallen into your hands, you
would
have been able to make a case against her.”

“Let go of me, Brandon, you are hurting me!”

“Yes, my dear, but Grace still has my gems. And do you know why? Not because your man failed, but because my provincial lady was smart enough to have copies made first.” He felt her flinch. “You would have come to me with the story that she had lost the set, and you would have handed me these.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the paste jewels. “And she would have produced the real ones.”

He smiled menacingly. “But when your little cohort did not show up with the emeralds, you had no evidence. Were you planning to accuse her of selling the gems, Patrice? Once again, she could produce the real ones. Either way you would have been caught.”

She tugged at his arm, but he had no intention of letting her go yet. “No harm has come to the emeralds—they remain in the proper hands. The true problem, though, is that you could have gotten my affianced hurt or killed. I am afraid I cannot let that go unpunished.” He seethed in anger. “And if I find out that Lady Grace heard about Baxter Orphanage from you, and you sent ruffians there to hurt her, I will wring your neck with my bare hands.”

He had never wanted someone to suffer more than he did at this instant. And in this totally inappropriate moment, a picture of Grace appeared in his mind, telling him never to hate, that it would only hurt him. She would remind him again that “there but for the grace of God go I.”

Lady Winslow began to tremble, and he tried to loosen his hold on her so he would not hurt her, but not enough that she could run away.

“Brandon, darling, someone has been making up lies about me. I tell you, I know nothing of this. Your betrothed must be more jealous of me than I thought to have concocted this wild tale.”

His anger burned and he pulled the woman’s face closer to his. “No, Patrice, I have done my research. Your sleazy little friend did not trust
you
any more than you trusted him. He left written notes all over London in the event you didn’t come through with his payment. I have also talked to Lord Pennington about your questions to him. And I was there that night at Whitefriars. I heard your man incriminate you. You have accomplished nothing but your banishment from England. That is, of course,
if
I let you off so easily.” And with Grace’s face in his mind, he knew that was the worst he would do.

But Lady Winslow tried a different tack and turned fully toward him, putting them very close together. She brought her free arm up around his neck. With crocodile tears filling her eyes, she whispered, “No, Brandon, don’t you see? I love you so much. I would never have harmed you or her. I just wanted you to be mad enough at her to come back to me. I have missed you, Brandon. I love you.” Then she pulled his head to hers and kissed him.

He tugged the arm from around his neck and pushed her away with both hands. Languidly, he said, “You never had me, Patrice. Now listen to me. Your slimy cohort has been shipped off to a life I would not wish on my worst enemy. But not before he testified against you. I will give
you
a choice. But only because I would not put Grace through a public trial unless I have to.”

She gasped at the word
trial.
“You would not! Please, Brandon...”

“Either you will leave England of your own volition within forty-eight hours or I make you a solemn vow I will press charges. Do you understand?”