Read Secrets of a Scandalous Bride Online
Authors: Sophia Nash
Secrets of a Scandalous Bride (27 page)
Three weeks later…
Dear Mr. Manning (or is it Lord
Balreal—finally?)
I do hope you understand the singular honor I am bestowing by sending this letter to you before I write to my own grandson. You are not to be your usual jaded self—thinking I only write to you because Helston is likely halfway to the East Indies.
When I bade all of you adieu two weeks ago, I knew I was not for Cornwall. And by the gleam in your eye, I had the distinct impression that you alone knew it too. I suppose I owe you a measure of gratitude now (since I would not give it then) for your insistence that Mr. Lefroy, personally, take the ribbons for my journey.
And so you have it. My gratitude, that is—along with the return of your excellent stable master.
But I daresay I owe you much more than that, sir.
I must thank you for explaining to me as no one else has done—the true method for attaining one’s dreams. I shall never forget your words
—I don’t stop until I get what I want.
Yes, I engraved that in my memory all the way to Scotland.
It might have taken me over fifty years to learn this lesson, but it is done and I now realize that is how fate wanted it—for if I hadn’t married the Duke of Helston, I would not have my grandson now, and I would never have met the widows, the finest circle of friends a lady could ever wish for.
Rosamunde taught me that it is possible to find happiness after a dreadful first marriage; Georgiana taught me about the joys of kissing a man you’ve loved all your life; Grace taught me about giving away everything for love; Elizabeth taught me courage; and finally Sarah taught me that one should never give up hope.
And so in closing, Mr. Manning, I advise you (since my grandson is not presently available for any sort of satisfying lecture) that you would do well to find a group of widowers to learn a few life lessons yourself. You might learn a modicum of patience or at the very least restraint in your particularly colorful use of the English language. You are to stop laughing now. I admit that Elizabeth probably likes you well enough just the way you are.
If I have not lost your interest yet, which I suspect I have, I would request that you inform my friends that Mr. Brown and I have
married—over the anvil—as we planned all those many years ago. And nothing sounds so very fine to these old ears as my new name.
We plan to travel to Cornwall for the winter, but shall spend a week with Sarah and Pierce at their lovely estate in the northern Lake District along the way.
I’ve reserved the most important part for last. When we come to town next spring, I expect you to present me with a wedding gift of your very finest pair of ponies—and a phaeton. It is only fair as I gifted you Vespers…
and Elizabeth.
Yours, with affectionate gratitude,
Mrs. Brown
Rowland tapped the edge of Ata’s letter against the escritoire in his chamber above stairs. He bit back a smile as he tried to stretch a bit despite the mounds of pillows surrounding him in his padded leather chair. He did not need a herd of bloody widowers to learn about patience. This last fortnight and a half, Elizabeth had seen to it inflexibly all by herself. He had been held captive by her in his bed—stretched out like a damned codfish on a platter. Until today.
“What does it say?” His beautiful wife placed a covered tray on the edge of the escritoire and drew up a second chair.
“She has a partiality for the name Mrs. Brown.”
Elizabeth’s emerald-green eyes filled with amusement. “Oh, I knew it!”
“What is this?” he cut in, eyeing the tray dubiously. “Did we not just have dinner?”
“Dessert,” she replied with an innocent expression.
“Really? What sort?” he murmured, with resignation rather than hope.
She uncovered the immense silver platter to reveal an endless, boundless mountain of…
strawberries
. “I know how to keep a promise. I told you I would bring them when you were sufficiently recovered.”
“I was sufficiently recovered three days after I shot Pymm,” he said dryly.
She smiled. “No. You were delirious for three days. You are not sufficiently recovered now. But—”
He growled.
“But
”—she smiled just enough to give evidence to the dimples he loved so much—“well…”
“What is it,
mhuirnin
?” He longed to pull her into his lap and nuzzle her, but could not quite manage the feat. He settled for taking up her hand in his and kissing the back of it.
“I have something to tell you—something to celebrate, actually.”
“Hmmm?” He was too busy kissing her delicate, lovely wrist to listen.
“Remember how we agreed that we never wanted to see the inside of Carlton House again for the rest of our lives?”
Why did women prattle on about ballrooms, when there were perfectly good strawberries to—
“Well”—her voice took on that shy quality he adored—“we might just have to be a bit more flexible about that.”
He drew his brows together.
“You see, if it’s a daughter, she would have to be presented to…” She stopped. “Rowland?
Rowland
…darling, are you
all right
?”
“Daughter?” he rasped. Where had all the air in the room disappeared to?
“Or a son,” she whispered, dropping to her knees beside him.
God, he wished he was back in that bed. Why had he wanted to leave it?
She was a mind reader, this perfect wife of his. “Come…let me help you.”
He waved her away, determined to do it on his own. She joined him there, a smile on her lips, and such happiness shining from her eyes.
“I think you’ve forgotten something, Mrs. Manning,” he whispered.
“Yes?” She leaned down to finally kiss him.
He clasped her to him, oblivious to any lingering pain. He would never, ever let her out of his sight now. “The strawberries…”
The sound of her laughter was of the same quality of those angels he had seen.
“You have to let me go if you want them,” she whispered.
“Oh, I want them all right,” he growled. “Then we shall see who plays the Fool.”
T
hank you to Helen Breitwieser for not only being an extraordinary literary agent, but for also being an extraordinary person.
I am especially grateful to all the people at Avon for their support: Lyssa Keusch, Liate Stehlik, Carrie Feron, Pam Spengler-Jaffee, Wendy Lee, Wendy Ho, Tom Egner, Mike Spradlin, and so many more. And to industry professionals who have always been so encouraging: Susan Grimshaw, John Charles, Shelley Mosely, Michelle Buonfiglio, and to all the librarians and booksellers.
And thank you to my husband for showing me what a lifetime of love is all about, and for being the only man who can still make me laugh until I cry. And much gratitude to my mother for nurturing an early love of storytelling, and to the two imps who call me Mommy, yes, you’re the reason for everything.
Endless thanks to my circle of girlfriends—Jean, Fairleigh, Anne, Amy, Lisa, Susan, Laurie, Jeanne, Kathy, Judi, Annie, Karen, Maria, Cybil, Louise,
Christina, Carla, Mary Noble and Sally for providing the fellowship and the laughter that sustained me through the creation of this series.
And finally, to Robbie Gordon, a young boy who touches my heart with his joyous, boundless goodness.
Sophia Nash
S
ECRETS OF A
S
CANDALOUS
B
RIDE
L
OVE WITH THE
P
ERFECT
S
COUNDREL
T
HE
K
ISS
A D
ANGEROUS
B
EAUTY
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SECRETS OF A SCANDALOUS BRIDE
. Copyright © 2010 by Sophia Nash. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © January 2010 ISBN: 978-0-06-197646-9
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