Royal's Bride (9 page)

Sheridan’s lips curved in a mocking half smile. “Jealous, are we?”

Royal turned away, determined to convince himself
it wasn’t true. “Marriage to Jocelyn will make Lily a distant relative. That means she falls under my protection. She deserves a husband and children—not seduction by a rogue like you.”

Sherry straightened. “I wouldn’t dishonor the lady, my friend—no matter my past indiscretions. If anyone is at risk of doing that, I believe it is you.”

Royal clenched his jaw, but he didn’t argue. His best friend was right. Every night as he conversed with the beautiful Jocelyn, he thought of Lily. Lily sitting on the yellow damask sofa with the sunlight silvering her pale golden hair. Lily’s crystalline laughter. Lily smiling as they held hands and made their way through the hedge maze.

From now on, he vowed, he would stay as far away from Lily as he possibly could. Better yet, he looked forward to the day she went home.

He glanced over at his friend. “Your point is well made. I have postponed the inevitable too long already. Tonight after the soiree, I am going to propose. Once Jocelyn agrees, I’ll go to London to formally ask her father’s permission and finalize the arrangement he and my father made.”

Sheridan slowed on the path to the stable. “Once you do that, you’ll have no choice but to wed her.”

“I never had a choice, Sherry. Not since the day I agreed to my father’s dying request. I thought you understood that.”

It was only a small soiree, no more than twenty people. Lily had helped the dowager countess pen the invitations from a list that included Squire Brophy and his wife, their two sons and their wives; Royal’s friend,
Sheridan Knowles; Vicar Pennyworth, his wife and daughter; and Jocelyn’s father, Henry Caulfield. Lady Tavistock had invited several widowed lady friends who lived nearby, including the Dowager Baroness Bristol and Lady Sophia Frost.

The pace of living in the country was slow and people looked forward to any sort of social event. Which was the reason that with little more than a week’s notice, almost everyone who had been invited had accepted the invitation, all but Jocelyn’s father, who was, as always, simply too busy running his numerous businesses to leave his offices in London. Even the incredibly wealthy Marquess of Eastgate, in residence at his country estate near Swansdowne, would be attending, accompanied by his daughter, Serafina.

Lily had been introduced to Lady Serafina Maitlin at several affairs in London. In Lily’s opinion, the girl was even more spoiled than Jo, with a far nastier disposition. There was never a man she couldn’t enthrall, she believed, which meant, since Jo felt much the same, that the women were bitter enemies.

Lily smiled. At least the evening would be entertaining.

Turning, she took a last survey of the Gold Drawing Room, a room that had been redesigned by the late duke’s wife before she died. A lot of wear had taken place since then, but by exchanging some of the worn Persian carpets with rugs in other parts of the house, and bringing in bouquets of fresh flowers, the salon had been made to look quite elegant. The walls could use a fresh coat of paint, but the sienna marble columns and exquisite molded ceilings were as lovely as ever.

The cook and her helpers had worked all day on the buffet to be served in the adjoining Long Gallery, another room that had fared relatively well, since the paintings on the walls were of long-dead family relatives and had not been sold. All was in readiness.

Lily couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer. She would have to go upstairs and ready herself for the evening. Last night, she had declined supper and hadn’t seen Royal since the interlude in the maze, but she had to face him sooner or later.

By now he would have realized the mistake he had made and banished any affection he might have felt for her. He would see Jocelyn in a different light and be resigned to his upcoming marriage.

Lily told herself it was best for everyone and ignored the heavy weight that had settled in the middle of her chest.

T
he duchess’s suite was littered with petticoats, drawers and an array of different evening gowns: a yellow silk, a mauve organdy, a silver-gray
peau de soie
. A corset lay open in the middle of the big four-poster bed next to where Lily stood waiting to leave for the party downstairs.

Jo had finally settled on a deep blue velvet gown with an overskirt and puffed sleeves of shot silver netting, a dress that made her eyes seem to change from dark blue to their unusual violet hue. The gown accented her cousin’s lush figure and ivory skin and rode low on her shoulders, displaying an intriguing amount of her generous bosom.

Lily eyed her from head to foot. “You’ve made the perfect choice. You couldn’t look lovelier, Jo.”

Jocelyn grinned at herself in the mirror. “I’ll show that witch Serafina. Hand me my slippers, will you?” She surveyed the silver overskirt gleaming in the lamplight. “Royal won’t even look at that woman once he sees me in this.”

Lily felt a tightening around her heart. “I’m sure he won’t.” No matter the uncertainties he might be feeling about his marriage, no man could keep from staring at a woman who looked like Jo.
Beautiful
was far too dim a word to describe her.
Radiant
was closer, but still not enough. “At any rate, I don’t think Serafina is his type.”

Jocelyn rolled her eyes. “How naive you are, Lily. Every woman is a man’s type—as long as she is willing. And I know for a fact, Lady Serafina Maitlin has been willing on more than one occasion.”

Lily’s eyes widened. “Truly?”

“I know she took Lord Holloway as her lover and I am fairly certain she had a tryst with Christopher Barclay.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No. Christopher is a gentleman. But there’s a special way a man looks at a woman he’s had. I could tell by the way Serafina looked at Christopher and the way he looked at her.”

“You mean, like they both knew a secret about each other.”

Jocelyn nodded sagely. “Exactly so.” Seating herself on the stool in front of the mirror, she waited for Lily to fasten the clasp on the extravagant diamond necklace her father had given her on her nineteenth birthday.

Jocelyn rose to her feet and took a last assessing glance in the mirror. “You go down first. I’ll come down a few minutes later.”

Jo liked to make an entrance. Lily was certain that in the gown she was wearing, she would.

“I’ll see you downstairs,” Lily said, feeling as if she would rather face a hangman’s noose than spend the evening with a roomful of people she did not know. In
truth, though she worked to hide the fact, she was more of a country miss than she appeared, happier to be sewing than dancing.

She left the room and headed downstairs, pausing at the top of the ornate staircase to straighten the bodice of her apricot silk gown. She had remodeled it to fit her more slender figure, removed several pearl buckles and some of the extra moss-green satin trim, leaving a simpler version she thought more becoming on her.

She tried not to wonder if Royal would like it, but when she looked down, he was standing in the entry staring up at her, his handsome face creased with a smile of approval.

It quickly disappeared as she reached the bottom of the staircase, and his manner turned formal. “Miss Moran. You look lovely this evening.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“I hope you are looking forward to the evening. You and my aunt did a great deal of work putting things together for tonight. You deserve to enjoy yourselves.”

If he were someone else, she might simply have said that she was excited about the night ahead, but when she spoke to Royal, somehow the truth just seemed to slip out.

“I am basically shy, Your Grace. I endure these affairs, but in truth, I should rather be sewing or reading.”

He smiled. “A true homebody.”

“Mostly, yes.”

“Unlike your cousin, I imagine.”

“Completely unlike Jo. She is always the life of the party.” She thought he would find the words reassuring, but instead he began to frown. He might have said something more but Matilda Caulfield walked up just then.

“Lily—where on earth have you been? Lady Tavistock has been looking all over. She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

It was a ruse to get her away from the duke, but for once, Lily was glad for the woman’s interference.

“Then I shall go to her at once.” She looked up at Royal, immaculately dressed in his perfectly tailored black evening clothes. Hair the color of pirate gold gleamed in the light of the crystal chandelier. “If you will both please excuse me…”

He made a formal bow and Lily hurried off to the drawing room. A trio of musicians in scarlet knee breeches and wearing white periwigs were playing. Most of the guests had already arrived. There was less formality in the country and everyone there was a bit more relaxed than in London, and laughter and good humor filled the drawing room.

Lily plucked a glass of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray and went in search of the dowager countess. The woman was engaged in conversation with several of her friends, and Matilda’s ruse was clear. The dowager hadn’t even noticed Lily’s absence.

She was meandering around the drawing room sipping her drink when Viscount Wellesley stepped into the path she traveled.

“Miss Moran…If I may say so, you are looking quite scrumptious this evening.”

She smiled. She liked Sheridan Knowles. He always went out of his way to make her feel comfortable, and he was also quite charming. “You look extremely dashing yourself.” And he did. Even when he wasn’t dressed in black evening clothes, there was something
elegant and sophisticated about Wellesley, and yet that elegance was tinged with a subtle masculinity that could not be mistaken.

“Would you allow me the privilege of introducing you to some of the guests?”

She would rather just slip into a corner and pretend to be invisible, but he wasn’t giving her a choice.

“That would be very kind of you.”

But the viscount wasn’t looking at her with kindness. She knew enough about men to recognize the warmth in his green eyes and the faintly sensuous curve of his lips.

At least until a commotion in the doorway drew his attention and Jocelyn swept into the drawing room. Her blue velvet gown heightened the milky whiteness of her skin and emphasized the voluptuous swell of her breasts. Chestnut curls gleamed against her shoulders and her full lips curved into a breathtaking smile.

All conversation ceased. Even the servants stopped where they stood and just stared.

“Good Lord.”

Lily laughed softly. “She is quite something, isn’t she?”

Sheridan dragged his gaze away from her and back to Lily’s face. “I do beg your pardon. That was not well done of me.”

Lily just smiled. She was used to the effect her cousin had on men. “Perhaps not, but it was expected. You have only seen her a couple of times. You will get over the shock after a while.”

Sheridan looked back at Jo, who, though escorted by the duke, was already surrounded by a group of male admirers.

“I am not certain I would want a wife whose beauty
drew such lavish attention,” Sherry said, “a woman who was never completely mine alone.”

“Ah, so you are a romantic, my lord.”

“Perhaps I am, though if you tell anyone, I shall have to call you out. Whom will you choose as your second?”

Lily laughed. “I suppose it would have to be Lady Tavistock. Despite her age, I imagine she is game for most anything.”

Sheridan chuckled and Lily glanced back at Jo. “She may be a bit of a handful, but even so, I should think the advantages would out-weigh the drawbacks.”

One of the viscount’s eyebrows went up as he correctly assumed she was referring to the pleasure a man would derive from bedding such a woman. Lily blushed.

Sheridan noticed and smiled and she realized he had several crooked bottom teeth. “You are quite sweet, aren’t you? As I said, it would be my pleasure to introduce you to some of the guests.” He extended his arm and Lily took it. “Shall we?”

For an instant, her glance strayed across the room to Royal and she was surprised to see him gazing back at her. A little tremor went through her that Lily entirely ignored.

Turning, she let Sheridan lead her round the drawing room, careful to keep her attention on the tall man at her side instead of the even taller man across the room.

Jocelyn was surprised to discover the evening was turning out to be far more pleasant than she had imagined. Her future bridegroom had been extremely attentive, introducing her to the guests and rarely leaving her side. Jocelyn had flirted madly as the duke had waltzed with her and escorted her round the room, making
certain she gave him even more attention when she spotted tall, statuesque, red-haired Serafina Maitlin.

Jocelyn particularly enjoyed the bone-in-her-throat look that came over Lady Serafina’s face when she realized the duke’s attention was fixed firmly on Jocelyn and he was not going to stray.

As Royal went to fetch her a cup of punch, there was a momentary encounter.

“So you are setting your cap for the duke, are you?”

Jocelyn shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose I could hold out for a prince, but I am willing to make the sacrifice for a man as handsome and charming as Royal.”

“You think to buy him. He needs your money.”

Jocelyn just smiled. “Can you think of a better use for it?” Spotting Royal striding toward her, she moved in that direction, accepting the punch and casting her enemy a final triumphant glance.

All in all, so far it had been a pleasant, satisfying evening, and yet something seemed to be missing. Never once had her heart skipped when the duke touched her. Never once had a glance from his golden-brown eyes made her feel light-headed.

A year ago, she wouldn’t have noticed. But that was before she had danced with Christopher Barclay. Before he had led her into the garden and kissed her. Silently she cursed herself. Now she knew what a man could make her feel. She had tasted the wild exhilaration.

It really didn’t matter. Royal was a duke. With his golden good looks and impressive title, he was the most sought-after bachelor in England. Royal could give her everything she had ever wanted. And she meant to have him.

She looked up at the sound of his deep, masculine
voice, coming softly from beside her. “The hour grows late, Jocelyn. I should like a moment with you, if I may, out on the terrace.”

She smiled and nodded, hoping he would speak the words she wished to hear and her future would be secured.

He took her gloved hand and settled it on the sleeve of his black dinner jacket and they walked out the French doors into the cool night air, careful to stay well in sight of the guests in the drawing room. Royal removed his coat and draped it round her shoulders.

“It’s colder out here than I thought.”

“It’s all right. Your coat has absorbed the heat of your body and it is keeping me snuggly warm.”

Something flickered in his eyes at the mention of his body and she thought that perhaps he was imagining their wedding night. Royal was a virile, masculine man and Jocelyn had always found the notion of bedsport intriguing. She was looking forward to it herself.

Royal took her hand and turned her to face him. “During the time you’ve been at Bransford, we’ve come to know each other a bit. Enough, I believe, that if you are willing, we might take the next step toward a future together.” He went down on one knee in front of her. The torches burning near the balustrade illuminated his high cheekbones and gleamed on his thick golden hair.

“Miss Caulfield, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She smiled brightly, overcome with relief. It was going to happen. She was going to become the Duchess of Bransford. She couldn’t wait to tell her mother! And her father would be utterly thrilled!

“I would be honored, Your Grace.”

He came to his feet, lifted her chin with his fingers and looked into her eyes. Leading her into the shadows, he bent his head and very softly kissed her. It was a very proper kiss that lasted only moments but still she felt a faint rush of heat.

A second shot of relief swept though her. At least Christopher Barclay wasn’t the only man who could make her feel like a woman.

Royal led her back into the light of the torches, where they could once more be seen. “Once you are back in London, I shall come to the city and speak to your father. We’ll go over the marriage settlement and decide when to formally announce our engagement.”

“Mother is going to be so excited!”

He studied her face and she wondered what he searched for. “I had better get you back inside,” he said, “or we shall surely create a scandal.”

Before they went in, he removed his coat from her shoulders and shrugged it back on, then took her hand and led her back into the drawing room.

Across the way, she caught her mother’s eye and beamed. The signal was read correctly and her mother grinned broadly.

“The guests are beginning to leave,” he said as he walked beside her. “I need to find my aunt so that we may bid them farewell. I shall see you in the morning.”