Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (61 page)

Brandon scanned the note and looked up. 'Are you certain the caller is Mrs Bradley?' The note from Nora said she was hoping to call on Mrs Bradley and run some errands in the village. He found it deuced odd that under the circumstances she would go down to the village. The fewer people who saw her, the better. Odder still was the idea that she'd pay a deliberate call on the Bradley s, especially since Mrs Bradley was here and apparently had no idea that Nora had deigned to call on her.

The butler looked chagrined that Brandon would doubt his ability to correctly identify the neighbors. 'It is Mrs Bradley.

I have known her for over a decade.'

'Of course, my mistake.' Brandon gave a curt nod of his head. 'I'll see her right away. Send a tea tray to the drawing room.' He strode to the blue drawing room, keenly aware that
this
was not what he had in mind when he had contemplated scones and jam.

'Mrs Bradley, to what do I owe the honour of your company?'

Brandon said congenially, crossing the room in great strides.

'I had hoped to meet your betrothed, Stockport,' Mrs Bradley said.

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Brandon wondered if she had any idea that she was far too familiar with the use of his name for London manners. am sorry she is not here,' Brandon apologised smoothly, taking a seat across from her. 'Perhaps there is something I can help with?'

Mrs Bradley smoothed the lap of her and preened

under his undivided attention. 'I came to invite the pair of you to the Squire's Valentine's ball. It's a betrothal ball for you, really. This engagement has been so sudden, but it must be acknowledged. We'll do it properly for you and the gel.'

Was one actually invited to one's own betrothal ball?

Despite the forward assumptions the woman made on his behalf, the ball would complicate things immensely. Valentine's Day was past the two weeks Nora had contracted to stay for. A smile creased his lips. Perhaps that would work in his favour.

'I will have to consult with my betrothed, of course. I am not sure how long she had planned to stay.' Brandon turned his head towards the door at the sound of light footsteps. Nora was home.

A fleeting look of shock crossed her features when she saw him with Mrs Bradley, the very woman she'd professed to be visiting, which verified that she had been up to something.

She masked her surprise beautifully after that and came sailing across the room, hands extended to Mrs Bradley, apples blooming in her cheeks. The minx had been out riding and for quite some distance to look so ruddy.

'Mrs Bradley, I regret I was not here to receive you. I've been out riding.'

Brandon felt piqued. Not a word of greeting to him. He interjected himself into the conversation. 'I thought you had gone to see Mrs Bradley.' He held up the note.

She smiled. 'You can imagine my disappointment when I

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Pickpocket Countess

arrived at Wildflowers and found I had missed you, then my delight when the butler told me you were here!' With aplomb, Nora turned to Brandon, beaming. 'Darling, what did I overhear about a Valentine's ball?'

Mrs Bradley jumped ahead of Brandon. 'We are throwing you a betrothal ball, my dear.'

'I wasn't sure how long you would be staying?' Brandon put in cautiously. 'It is up to you. I think the idea splendid.' Let her interpret the message and all its import, he thought. It would be tantamount to a permanent declaration.

Nora smiled, but Brandon could see the tension in her lips.

'If you think it is a good idea, then we shall accept the offer.'

She nodded at Mrs Bradley. 'You are too Brandon grinned. Nora would make a fine Countess if given the chance. Now that she was home, he hoped Mrs Bradley wouldn't linger over tea.

Mrs Bradley reached for a second shortbread scone and dashed his hopes. 'Do you think your sister, Lady Dulcinea, will be able to attend?'

The woman was a gossipmonger of the first water. Brandon swore silently, regretting he had mentioned to the Squire that he had sent for his sister. 'I certainly hope so. However, I am distressed that I have not yet had a reply from her. I fear my letter may have missed her at her current residence,' Brandon said smoothly.

Brandon let the conversation lag, conveying his desire to be done with the interview. Mrs Bradley finished her scone and took the none-too-subtle hint.

The drawing-room door shut behind her, and Brandon turned his attention on Nora. 'Where have you been? I was surprised to find you had been out at all.'

'I went riding. I thought I might pay a call or do some shopping, but I wasn' t sure,' Nora offered.

Brandon sensed a lie of omission. She was telling the truth,

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but not all of it. She had gone riding. The rosy cheeks attested to it. She probably had paid a call and done some shopping, but he'd wager his mother's ring that it wasn't in the traditional sense.

The knocker on the front door sounded and Brandon swore out loud. 'Lucifer's balls, you'd think we were having an at-home.' The day couldn't get any worse. Moments later it did.

The butler announced Cecil Witherspoon.

'More tea, if you please,' Nora ordered tersely, obviously steeling herself against the visit.

'We'll need something stronger than that,' Brandon muttered as Witherspoon strolled into the room, as if he had a

standing invitation to call on a peer of the realm.

'Stockport, I have news,' Witherspoon said with, in Brandon's estimation, an overblown sense of self-importance.

'Please, be seated and share it.' Brandon gestured to a chair with a bonhomie he didn't feel.

Witherspoon glanced at Nora and then sent a Brandon a silent query as to whether or not she would be staying.

'You can speak freely in front of my bethrothed,' Brandon assured him. Whatever Witherspoon had to say, he felt it boded no good for The Cat and Nora had best hear it first hand.

When they were all seated and Nora had poured out, Witherspoon delivered his news. 'I have had men watching the pawn shops in Manchester, you know, in the hope of finding some of the jewellery taken from us at the dinner party.'

Brandon looked up from his tea cup. No, he hadn't known.

He didn't let on. He'd thought he was the only one watching them. 'A very sensible idea,' he said noncommittally.

'Indeed. Today, my men found this Witherspoon withdrew a ruby necklace. Brandon recognised it as belonging to Witherspoon's wife. She'd worn it to the dinner party at St John's and relinquished it to The Cat.

'I am sure your wife will be glad to have that back, it's a lovely piece.'