The Scandalous Adventures of the Sister of the Bride (13 page)

“Your
adventure.
”

“My mistake!” She shook her head. “You and I are not . . . you’re not . . .”

“I’m not what?”

“You’re not right. Not for me,” she said more to herself than to him and he had to
lean closer to hear. She ran her hand over her forehead in a weary manner then met
his gaze. “You’re not . . .
right.
You’re not what I want.” Her voice grew stronger with every word. “You’re not what
I have planned. We would never suit. Marriage between us—”

“Marriage?” Shock coursed through him. “I never said anything about marriage.”

“Nonetheless . . .” Her eyes widened as if she had just now realized what she had
said. “You were thinking it!”

“You have no idea what I was thinking but I never mentioned marriage. In fact, I haven’t
mentioned anything. You’ve given me no opportunity. The moment you saw me again, you
began behaving like a lunatic—”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “I did not!”

“And . . .” He paused to emphasize his words.
“You were rude!”

She gasped.

“You may well be the maddest woman I have ever met!” He turned and stalked off. “Crazy,
lunatic Englishwoman.”

“Insufferable American!” she called after him.

He couldn’t remember ever having been this infuriated by a female before. She was
mad. Completely, utterly irrational. He stopped and turned back to her. “Do you want
to know what I was thinking?”

“No!”

He ignored her. “Before I came to England, I was thinking a lot about a captivating,
intriguing creature with whom I spent an interlude that was very nearly magical. An
enchantress who disappeared from my life as surely as if she was never there. In fact,
I couldn’t get her out of my mind. Or for that matter my dreams. But that was when
she was
Mrs.
Hargate.
Lady
Hargate is not to my liking.”

“Good!” she snapped. “Because she would never marry you.”

“I would never ask!” His tone hardened. “I want more in a wife than a woman who wants
me only for my money and my position.”

“I wish you well then because if you have anything else to offer it’s not readily
apparent.”

“Interesting as
Mrs
. Hargate thought I had a great deal to offer.”

“
Mrs.
Hargate does not exist!”

“Obviously, that is my loss.” He scowled at her. “And hers!”

“Hmph.” She huffed and started off again, but he grabbed her and pulled her back.
“Unhand me at once!”

“One more thing,” he said in a hard tone. In the back of his mind he noted there was
only anger in her eyes, not fear. No matter what else passed between them, he would
hate to scare her. “If I remember correctly, the terrace will be in sight just over
this rise. If you want to continue this little charade you’ve embroiled me in, you’ll
calm down.”

“I am calm!” She wrenched out of his grasp.

“Don’t forget, it’s not my reputation at stake. I’m not the one trying to find the
perfect husband.”

“I am calm,” she said through clenched teeth, then pulled off his jacket and flung
it at him.

He snorted and released her.

She stared at him for a long moment. She might not be afraid of
him,
but only a fool wouldn’t be uneasy at the look in
her
eye. A lesser man might well be terrified. He was grateful she was only armed with
a tennis racket.

She cast him a last scathing look, drew a deep breath, then started toward the manor.
He stepped up beside her. The moment the terrace was in sight, she adopted a polite
smile.

“Do not be fooled by my pleasant demeanor, Mr. Russell.”

“I haven’t been thus far, Lady Hargate.”

“I think you’re a beast.”

“Then perhaps we are well suited after all.” His smile matched hers. “I think you’re
a bitch.”

She sucked in a hard breath. “I should slap your face for that.” Her eyes narrowed
but her smile remained.

As did his. “Try it.”

Neither said another word until they reached the terrace then each went their own
way. Sam made it a point to avoid her for the rest of the evening. Much to Camille
and Teddy’s disappointment, the day grew colder with the setting sun and most of the
guests preferred to take their leave rather than wait for the musicians to move from
the terrace to inside the house. Sam took the first available opportunity to slip
away. He needed to talk to Jim about the motorwagon. That was what should be foremost
in his mind, not an irrational little termagant with a bouncing bustle and endless
blue eyes.

Why did he have to keep reminding himself he did not want this woman?

And why did it feel like a lie?

Delilah Hargate was not the sort of woman to be confused. Of course, she was never
rude either and that no longer seemed to be true.

She paced the floor of her room, the same rooms she’d occupied as a girl. She refused
to consider that in many ways, she had come full circle, back to where she began.
Hopefully, the years had taught her much. Unfortunately, not enough. Apparently, when
one made one mistake, it was impossible to avoid another. And another. And so on.

The rest of the day had been a blur after she’d left Samuel. But then what could one
expect after having had a revelation of epic proportions? Or perhaps it wasn’t a revelation
as much as a realization. As much as an acceptance of a truth she’d prefer not to
face.

She’d gone through the motions of enjoying the rest of the party. She’d been pleasant
and polite and even laughed at the occasional joke but she’d been more than a little
relieved when the gathering had ended earlier than expected and everyone had departed.
Fortunately, both her sister and her friend had been too busy attending to the guests
and preoccupied with future plans to note any difference in Delilah’s demeanor. Teddy
would surely have noticed otherwise and Camille was proving to be far more perceptive
than her sister had expected. Nor had she eaten; she hadn’t been the least bit hungry,
which in and of itself was something Teddy would have remarked upon if her attention
had not been otherwise occupied. Delilah rarely passed up food. She was relieved as
well to notice Samuel too had taken his leave. Delilah was simply not up to pretending
they had just met.

She’d gone to her rooms as soon as she could gracefully escape, pleading a headache.
The housemaid who’d come to turn down her bed told her Camille and Teddy had also
retired. Good. Neither would be seeking her out and she wasn’t up to pretense with
them either.

She had gone to bed far earlier than was her custom but after a day of tennis and
emotional turmoil, a good night’s sleep was called for. Things always did look better
in the morning.

Still, morning was very far away and she couldn’t sleep a wink. Every time she closed
her eyes he was there. Every moment they’d shared filled her head. From their first
meeting and the vague hint of confusion in the eyes of a tall, blond American to the
wicked smile of a pirate at a masked ball. From the pride in his voice today when
he’d explained the intricacies of his horseless carriage to his look of triumph at
their tennis victory to the justifiable anger in his dark eyes at her irrational fury.
When she closed her eyes she saw the look on his face before he’d kissed her for the
first time. And when he’d kissed her for the last.

After hours of tossing and turning she’d given up the attempt entirely. She’d been
pacing the floor for a good hour now, hashing and rehashing everything that had passed
between them. Everything she now understood and everything he didn’t know.

Rational thought was certainly called for even if it was as elusive as sleep. She
never should have responded to Samuel today the way she did. She could have ignored
the way he smiled when she’d asked what else he was good at. But God help her, that
was the only thing on her mind when he was around. It had been bloody hard to concentrate
on the game when he was behind her, watching her every move. Even when they were arguing,
she was all too aware of the passion that emanated from the man. His presence was
not merely a constant reminder of what had passed between them, but more and more
it was a temptation. And a warning.

It was time, past time really, to face the truth at least to herself. She hadn’t up
to now. Hadn’t dared to accept the truth even in her own mind.

Samuel Russell had terrified her from the moment his laugh had wrapped around her
heart.

She wasn’t used to being afraid. It was as if she were standing at the edge of an
endless precipice and it would take no more than a nudge to push her over. And she
would be lost. She had no idea how to deal with such fear. But as long as she never
saw him again, she wouldn’t have to. He could remain her secret. Like a treasure hidden
away only to be taken out on occasion when one needed a measure of comfort from a
memory and the thought of what might have been.

She pulled her lace-trimmed wrapper tighter around herself and continued to pace.
He was wrong though. He was wrong about all of it.

It wasn’t the possibility of scandal that concerned her. Her life had always been
scandal free. One misadvised adventure certainly wouldn’t ruin her. And she was a
widow after all. It wasn’t how gossip might affect her prospects for a second marriage
that worried her either. Even as much of a stickler for propriety as she was, she
had no intention of marrying anyone who would allow gossip to influence his choice
of wife.

She’d been appalled not so much by her behavior in New York but because she had let
her guard down. But she’d felt so, well, free in those few days. Not at all constrained
by the rules she lived by. She could have stopped what happened between them at any
time. But she hadn’t wanted to. From the moment his hand had brushed hers, she hadn’t
wanted anything but him. She had quite simply been swept away. For the first time
she had known what even the most practical woman would acknowledge as magic. And in
that had violated the one rule she’d set for herself.

Then she’d come to her senses. They were completely different people. They wanted
different things. They saw the world in different ways. If she couldn’t find love
with a perfect match, one so completely imperfect, so utterly wrong, would ultimately
end in disaster. She’d vowed long ago, she would never allow her heart to be broken
again.

And he would break her heart. She’d known it from the start and knew it as surely
as she knew the sun would rise in the east. Still, for a few days in New York, she
hadn’t cared. It hadn’t mattered. But then she’d thought she would never see him again.
Planned never to see him again. It was for the best. Why didn’t he see that?

And now he was here. He’d never understand that her unpleasantness toward him had
little to do with him and everything to do with her. She hadn’t really understood
it herself until today. She’d only known she was angry and frustrated and, yes, scared.

She glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was past two. There was nothing to be done
about it. She had to talk to him. Apologize again, of course, attempt some sort of
explanation and ask him, again, to leave. Surely after today he would see the wisdom
of that.

He had to leave before it was too late.

It was probably foolish to go to him now. In the wee hours of the morning. Dressed
in her nightclothes. But better now than during the day when everyone was about. Besides,
she had summoned up at least a small measure of courage and she wasn’t going to be
able to sleep until she spoke to him.

She opened her door, glanced up and down the corridor, and started down the hall.
A gas sconce burned low, filling the corridor with dim light and shadows. His rooms
were at the far end of the hall, away from those occupied by the others. Her footfalls
echoed quietly in the night. A light shone under his door. Good, he wasn’t yet asleep.

She stood before his door and hesitated, trying to sort out in her head what she’d
say, searching for the right words. She had no idea really what to say but she did
know, the one thing she wouldn’t tell him, was the one thing she knew firsthand from
bitter experience.

Love did not conquer all.

She drew a deep breath and knocked softly. Without warning, panic swelled within her.
It was all she could do to keep from turning and fleeing back down the corridor. What
was she doing? What was she thinking? Or was she thinking at all? This was not the
least bit wise. Surely it could wait until—

The door opened and he stared at her. “What do you want?”

What did she want? “May I come in?”

His hair was tousled and he wore dark striped pajamas under that blasted blue silk
dressing gown. At once she remembered the feel of that silk against her skin and a
shiver ran down her spine. She ignored it. That was not why she was here.

His eyes narrowed. “Did you come to berate me again?”

“No, I came to apologize.”

“Did you?”

“Yes, I did and I would prefer not to do so standing here in the hall.”

He studied her closely then nodded. “Very well then.” He stood aside and she slipped
into his room. “You seem to be making a habit of apologizing to me.”

“When one is a lunatic.” She forced an offhand note to her voice. “One tends to say
things one shouldn’t.”

He closed the door behind her. “As one does when one is dealing with a lunatic. I
have apologies of my own to make.”

“Accepted.”

He frowned. “I haven’t made them yet.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I have never
in my life called a woman a—”

“No need to say more,” she said quickly.

“It was coarse and crude. I don’t know what came over me.”

“You were provoked and I was . . .”

“Rude?” he said with a hint of a smile.

“No, Samuel.” She straightened her shoulders. “Rude is something of an understatement.
I was beyond rude and for that I am truly sorry.”

“You’re getting better at this, you know.”

“At apologizing?”

He nodded.

“I am getting a great deal of practice.” She glanced around his room. The covers on
his bed were disheveled and papers were scattered on the writing desk. “I see you
couldn’t sleep either.”

“Either?”

He was obviously not going to make this easy for her. She sighed. “I’m afraid my ill
manners have weighed on my mind.” She nodded at the desk. “Were you working?”

“I was trying but I don’t seem to be accomplishing anything.” He moved to the desk
and straightened the papers. “Gray and I had a long talk tonight about our plans for
manufacturing the motorwagon. Unfortunately, his business contacts are primarily in
America.”

“I thought Winfield was involved in business. Can’t he help?”

“Possibly.” He nodded. “But Gray says he’s fairly conservative and not as progressive
as one would hope. Still, Lord and Lady Stillwell’s interest is a good beginning.
Of course they haven’t seen it run yet.”

“I’m sure that will only increase their enthusiasm.”

“With luck.” He crossed his arms over his chest and rested his hip on the desk. “If
that’s all, you should probably go.”

She drew a deep breath. “I’m not quite finished.”

“Go on then.”

“Very well. It seems to me, along with my apologies I owe you some sort of explanation
or perhaps it’s a confession, I’m not sure.” She wasn’t about to tell him she feared
she had found her soul mate, if one believed in such things, and he was the wrong
man. Nor had she said she’d be completely honest but part of the truth was surely
better than no truth at all. She sighed. “For one thing, I am so very tired of being
angry with you.”

“Imagine it from my side,” he said wryly.

“It’s not merely that you are here . . .”

“No?”

“Or that I was surprised, well, shocked really, to see you again.”

“And?”

“And I was, well, this doesn’t seem to have as much to do with you as it does with
me.”

“I never thought otherwise,” he said coolly.

She drew her brows together. “This is not easy for me and you aren’t being very helpful.”

“Oh, well, my apologies then.”

She ignored the sarcastic note in his voice. “As I was saying, it really has as much
to do with me as it does with you I think. More so probably. I mean you could be anyone.”

“Anyone?” His brow rose. “That is flattering.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She wrung her hands together. “This is so confusing and
it’s not coming out at all as I intended it.”

“Just tell me what you have to say.”

“I am trying. I’m, well, every time I see you . . .”
I’m terrified that you will break my heart.
“I’m embarrassed.” Yes, that was good and not a complete lie either. “After all,
you and I . . . Horribly, horribly embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?”

“Well, yes. You . . .” She drew a deep breath. “You have seen me . . .
naked.
”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“Goodness, Samuel, I would think not, you’re a man. No doubt many women have seen
you . . .
naked
.”

“I wouldn’t say many but some.”

“I’ve never been seen completely
naked
by anyone.” Indeed, it was decidedly awkward even to say the word aloud. “And therefore
every time I look at you—”

“Not even by your husband?” Surprise widened his eyes.

“That’s really none of your concern.”

“I believe you’ve made it my concern.”

“Yes, I suppose I have.” She paused. “My husband was a very proper man.”

“I see.” He studied her for a moment. “And something of a fool as well. A smart man
would have your clothes off at every opportunity.”

“Nonsense.” She tried to ignore the heat that washed up her face. “My husband was
. . .” She struggled to find the right word. “Perfect.” Yes, that was it. “He was
perfect. Exactly the type of man I had always planned to marry.”

“And I am not.”

“No, you’re not.” She shook her head. “We don’t suit at all.”

“Then it’s fortunate I have not asked you to marry me.”

“I never should have raised the subject of marriage with you. I have no idea why I
did, although I suppose marriage has been on my mind of late.”

“Probably because you are determined to find another perfect husband.”

“Yes, well that would explain it.”

“Which has nothing to do with me.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She shook her head. “It seems the one thing we do agree on is that
we don’t agree on anything. It’s in our natures really. You’re American, so very American,
and I’m British. You believe in progress and I am rooted in tradition. You are nouveau
riche and I am—”