To Tempt A Rogue (28 page)

“I'll have my solicitor send you a copy the moment I return to London,” Nathaniel responded pleasantly as he neatly folded the letter and placed it in his breast coat pocket. Dismissing Lord Bridwell, he turned to the runner. “I owe you a depth of gratitude that will be difficult to repay, Mr. Brockhurst. Along with an apology for that sore jaw.”

The runner rubbed his fingers lightly over the bruise. “You certainly caught me with my guard down.”

“I have no doubt the element of surprise gave me the greater advantage.” Nathaniel held out his hand and the runner shook it. “In appreciation of your efforts, I would like to offer you a bonus.”

“No need for any of that, my lord. My reward is a job well done.” Mr. Brockhurst leaned close and lowered his voice confidentially, “and, Lord Bridwell has paid me a handsome fee plus all the expenses of my journey to Scotland.”

The men shared a private laugh. Then with a final bow and a satisfied expression, the runner left. Lord Bridwell stood in stunned silence for several moments. Nathaniel took advantage of the quiet to issue his final edict.

“Uncle, since your clothes are already packed, I believe this would be a most opportune time for you to depart. Have a safe journey back to England.”

The command snapped the older man from his stupor. “You are talking nonsense,” he bristled. “I gave my valet no instructions.”

“Actually I was the one who handled that particular detail,” Harriet replied sweetly.

Lord Bridwell whirled around and glared at her. “You had the audacity to give my servant orders? Without my permission?”

“Goodness, no. I would never be so presumptuous.” Harriet pursed her mouth. “Do you not recall, why, less than an hour ago, you suggested I go upstairs to pack? And I have done just that, with one slight alteration. I have packed
your
garments. I so hope you approve of my handling of your belongings. Lord Avery and Mr. McTate thought I was a bit harsh and your valet, well, that poor man might never recover from the incident.”

Lord Bridwell opened his mouth, but closed it without uttering another word. After a moment, he seemed to realize he was staring blankly into the air. With a snort of pure disgust he turned away and stormed from the room in a huff, slamming the door behind him for good measure.

“You were magnificent, lass.” McTate lifted her up in a giant bear hug and twirled her around twice before setting her back on her feet. “Please tell me you have a sister back home who is waiting for a handsome Scot to come and sweep her off her feet.”

Harriet's face paled as she thought of her gentle, fragile sister Elizabeth and the brawny laird. “I do have a sister and she is the most beautiful, most docile creature in the country. Far too delicate to handle a Scottish devil like you, Duncan McTate.”

“But I want to meet her!”

“I'm certain she will be at our wedding, but you will only be granted an introduction if you promise to keep your charm to yourself,” Nathaniel declared.

A crafty expression crept over the laird's handsome face. “Aye, well, truth be told, there is no need for a wedding, 'cause you are already wed.”

“What?” Baffled, both Harriet and Nathaniel stared at the laird.

McTate grinned broadly. “Have you not been traveling about the country telling everyone you are husband and wife?”

Nathaniel nodded. “We have.”

“Then it's done.” McTate gave Nathaniel a sly nudge. “This is Scotland, my good man, not stuffy old England. If you've proclaimed yourself married in front of witnesses, then indeed you are man and wife.”

Harriet felt her jaw lower. “Is he right?” “Probably.” Nathaniel cleared his throat sharply.

“But it doesn't matter, because I intend to stand before a priest of the Anglican church with Phoebe, Jeanne Marie, and Gregory, plus all of your family in attendance and marry you properly.” Nathaniel turned to Harriet, held her hands between his own and dropped down on one knee. “If you'll have me?”

Harriet almost choked on a bubble of happiness. It was what she had dared to dream and now the reality of it made her giddy with excitement and joy. “Oh, I'll have you, Lord Avery. And I'll keep you, too!”

 

 

They were married a month later in the small village church of Harriet's childhood. Her brother, the Viscount Harrowby, gave her away and her sister-in-law, Faith, planned a wedding feast worthy of a princess. All the local gentry had been invited as well as a few select members of London society. Duncan McTate stood up with Nathaniel, and the handsome laird garnered more than his share of attention from the unmarried ladies in attendance.

Even Lord Bridwell had attended the church service, though he declined to stay for the reception. He had not given in gracefully to losing control of the ducal fortune, yet he had no qualms about taking the financial settlement Nathaniel offered in hopes of making peace with his uncle.

Armed with the indisputable proof uncovered by Jerome Brockhurst, Nathaniel's petition for permanent legal guardianship had been swiftly granted. Though he would never publicly admit it, Lord Bridwell knew he was fortunate to have received anything.

After the ceremony, the guests returned to Hawthorne Castle for the bridal supper. The house was draped with garlands of flowers and the ten course meal was served on the finest china. Harriet felt guilty about the cost of the lavish affair, but her brother and his wife had insisted she be married with all the pomp and circumstance they could muster.

Too excited to eat, Harriet had circulated among the guests, her arm tucked securely in the crook of her new husband's arm. She could not remember a time in her life when she felt such supreme happiness, such hope for a future filled with joy and laughter and children. Her three beloved children by marriage, and she hoped, one day soon, a child from her body to add to the brood.

She was also greatly looking forward to her bridal trip, which would begin in two days. Flouting convention, she had made the arrangements for a month-long respite herself, and she was eager to share her plans with Nathaniel.

Later that night as they snuggled together in their bridal bed, Harriet whispered her surprise in her husband's ear. Amusement flickered across Nathaniel's face. “There are so many exotic places to travel, so many curious sights to see, yet you want to return to Scotland?”

Lazily, she curled her body around his. “The children will be staying here with my brother and Faith and I do not wish to be too far away from them. When I mentioned my idea to Duncan he was more than pleased to offer his much-praised Scottish hospitality.”

Nathaniel seemed skeptical. “Are you certain? I highly doubt Mrs. Mullins's cooking or housekeeping skills have improved.”

Harriet laughed. “Not to mention her brogue, though I was beginning to understand her a little better when we left.”

“Then why Hillsdale Castle?”

With an impish grin, she twirled her arms around his neck and pressed herself against his hard strength. “Because, my love, that is where this all began!”

Adrienne Basso lives with her family in New Jersey. She is the author of five Zebra historical romances set in the Regency period and is currently working on her next historical romance to be published in 2005. Adrienne loves to hear from readers and you may write to her c/o Zebra Books. Please include a self-addressed stamped envelope if you wish a response.

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