Читать книгу Royal's Bride - Kat Martin - Страница 11

She didn’t want to go. Lily considered pleading a headache, as she had done for the past two nights, but she simply couldn’t ignore her host and hostess any longer. Still, the notion of sitting through a meal with the duke made her stomach quiver. Every time she was around him, she felt nervous and flushed and not quite certain what to say.

It was ridiculous. He was only a man, after all, not the golden-haired angel she had imagined when she had been lying there in the snow.

He was handsome, yes. But beauty was only skin deep. At the balls and soirees she’d attended with Jo, she had met dozens of handsome men. It had never bothered her before.

Lily didn’t understand it. As a child, she had been shy, but in the years she had lived with her uncle, she had learned to overcome it. Living in Jocelyn’s shadow for so long seemed to have brought its return.

Still, she usually did quite well in the presence of the opposite sex. Perhaps it was knowing this particular male belonged to her cousin.

As the little maid, Penny, helped her fasten the buttons at the back of her aqua silk gown, she wondered when Jo would arrive and hoped it would be soon. The sooner the duke met his stunning future bride, the sooner this ridiculous attraction Lily grudgingly admitted to feeling would be over.

One could hardly be attracted to a man who looked through her as if she were not there, and she knew from experience, once Jocelyn arrived, that is exactly what the handsome Duke of Bransford would do.

“Gor, ye look lovely, miss.”

Lily smiled at the dark-haired girl. “Thank you, Penny.” She turned in front of the cheval glass, pleased at the changes she had fashioned in Jo’s cast-off dinner gown. She had removed the extra ruffles around the hem and across the bodice, leaving only a single flounce of aqua satin across the bosom, which she adorned with a spray of tiny seed pearls.

The gown looked brand new, which it practically was, since Jo rarely wore a dress more than once and was happy to hand them off to Lily to change in any way she pleased.

She moved to the dresser, lifted the lid on the small rosewood box she had brought with her and removed a lovely peach-colored agate cameo hanging from a black velvet ribbon. It wasn’t an expensive piece of jewelry, but it was one of her favorites, a gift from the Caulfields on her eighteenth birthday.

She held it out to Penny, then turned her back. “Could you tie it for me, please?”

“Of course, miss.”

Penny set the cameo at the base of her throat and tied the ribbon round her neck. With her pale hair pulled away from her face and pinned in a cluster of curls at her shoulder, she felt ready to face the duke and his aunt across the supper table.

Taking a breath for courage, Lily swept out of the room and headed down the wide mahogany staircase. She found the duke and his aunt conversing in an antechamber that led into the elaborate formal dining room. She had hoped for a more casual evening, but with the dowager in residence, she should have known it wasn’t going to happen.

“Ah, Miss Moran,” the duke said, striding toward her. “We were afraid you’d had another brush with the kitchen maids.”

He was smiling, teasing her, but with his aunt in the room, she was embarrassed. “Nothing of the sort, I assure you.” Her cheeks burned. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

“Not a’tall,” the dowager said with a smile. “Royal was telling me about the flour incident in the kitchen. The last time I was here, I slipped and took a tumble into the bushes in the garden. They had just been watered. I came up looking like a half-drowned wren.”

Lily laughed, feeling a sweep of gratitude for the old woman’s effort to put her at ease, which seemed to work quite well. “I haven’t been below stairs lately, but should I visit in the future, I shall attempt to be more careful.”

“Accidents happen,” the duke said, smiling.

“More often to some of us than others,” the dowager added with a twinkle in her eyes, nearly the same tawny shade as her nephew’s.

“Cook has supper ready,” the duke said. “May I persuade you ladies to continue this discussion in the dining room? I find I am nearly light-headed with the need for food.”

As was she, Lily realized, and couldn’t help wondering if the man was truly that hungry or if he had guessed she had been so busy she had eaten only the cakes and cocoa she’d had for breakfast. She had a feeling it was the latter.

Drat it, she wished he would be less congenial. Surely there was something to dislike about him. But as he moved beside his aging aunt, taking great care not to walk too swiftly and provide the supportive arm she needed, as he seated her and then Lily, one on each side of him, she couldn’t think what it might be.

The first course was served, a delicious oyster soup, the creamy broth lightly seasoned with herbs and floating with lemon slices, probably grown in the estate’s conservatory.

“Have you heard from your brother Rule?” Lady Tavistock asked, taking a hearty spoonful of soup.

“He is finishing up at Oxford,” the duke replied. “He has been offered a job with an American company once he is out of school—a liaison position of some sort, I gather. If he accepts, he will be traveling there and back quite often.”

He glanced over at Lily. “It was our father’s wish that our family develop an alliance with the Americans. Rule promised to make that happen. And I think he may be excited at the prospect of seeing a different country.”

“I would love to see America, myself.”

The duke smiled. “So you crave adventure, do you?”

Lily smiled back. “Only in my head, I am afraid. Mostly, I enjoy reading books about other people’s travels.”

“As do I,” the duke agreed.

“Royal spent a good many years in the Caribbean managing the family plantation,” his aunt added. “Did a fine job of it, too.”

“I enjoyed the challenge,” he said. “I hope I am up to it here at Bransford. There is far more at home that needs to be done than there was at Sugar Reef.”

“With the right woman at your side,” his aunt said, “I am certain you will manage quite well.”

Royal looked down at his bowl of soup and Lily wondered what he was thinking.

“So you enjoy reading,” the dowager said to her.

“Very much. I read just about anything I can get my hands on.”

“There is a library full of books here at Bransford,” the duke said. “You are welcome to borrow whatever you might find interesting.”

She felt his golden gaze on her face and something warm settled low in her stomach. “Thank you.”

“What have you heard of your brother Reese?” the older woman asked, breaking the strangely intimate moment. Lily wondered if that was the dowager’s intent. Her nephew was, after all, practically engaged to another woman.

“Reese is fighting the Russians in the Crimea at the moment. Though I haven’t heard from him directly for a while. Apparently, getting letters posted is difficult, but at last word he seemed quite healthy.”

“I am glad to hear it. With your brother Reese, one never quite knows what to expect.”

Royal turned to Lily. “Reese is a major in the cavalry—a true adventurer. Still, we are all hopeful he will eventually leave the military and return to a more settled life here at home.”

They continued the meal in pleasant conversation and Lily was surprised at how comfortable she was made to feel.

Until Lady Tavistock turned the conversation to Jocelyn.

“So when do you expect the Caulfields to arrive?” the dowager asked.

“Soon, I should think. At least soon after the weather clears a bit and the roads become passable.”

“Do tell us a little about your cousin. What sort of woman is she? What are her interests?”

“Jocelyn is beautiful,” Lily said without pausing to think. “Outrageously so.” It was the first thing anyone noticed about Jo. “She has very dark hair and the most amazing eyes. They’re the color of violets, you see. I don’t believe I have ever seen anyone with eyes that exact color.”

“Go on,” the countess urged, obviously intrigued.

Lily faltered a moment, trying to describe a woman who was completely indescribable. “Jocelyn loves parties. She is extremely outgoing. She enjoys dressing in the height of fashion and she looks marvelous in whatever she chooses to wear.” She glanced up. “Oh, and she’s a very proficient rider. Her father made certain of that.”

“Well, that is good news,” the dowager said with a smile, “since Royal has a great love of horses.”

But Jo didn’t particularly like animals, just the thrill of speed and the feeling of mastery over a beast much larger than she.

The dowager looked over at her nephew. “I daresay, if Miss Caulfield enjoys parties, then perhaps we should have one here at Bransford. A small soiree, perhaps? A bit of music and dancing, just a few of our neighbors and some of our friends. What do you say, Royal?”

He took a sip of his wine, set the crystal goblet back down on the table. The house was no longer the showcase it once was, but Lily thought it could be made quite presentable.

“If you and Miss Moran are up to the challenge, I think it would be fine.”

“Well, what do you think, Miss Moran?”

“I would be more than pleased to help.”

“Marvelous. We’ll begin making plans on the morrow.” The old woman delicately sipped her wine, the goblet shaking in her frail hand. “Anything more you can tell us about your cousin?”

Lily dredged up a smile. “To be honest, Jocelyn is not easy to describe. She is a very unique person. You will understand once you meet her.”

Lily couldn’t help wondering how that meeting would go. She wasn’t concerned with the duke, who wouldn’t be able to see past Jo’s alluring exterior. It was Lady Tavistock she wondered about. The old woman seemed extremely intelligent and keenly perceptive. Lily tried to imagine what the dowager would think about the woman meant to wed a nephew who seemed to hold a very special place in her heart.

A warm sun brightened the landscape, melting the last of the snow. Eager for a ride, Royal strode down a corridor near the back of the house on his way to the

stables, passing several little-used drawing rooms along the way.

Rounding a corner, in a portion of the hall whose rooms faced the garden, he noticed the door of the Daffodil Room, one of the smaller drawing rooms, stood open.

He paused in the doorway, saw that a low fire burned in the hearth. His eyes widened as he recognized the woman perched on the yellow damask sofa. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, turning her hair a silvery gold.

Royal’s gaze took in her surroundings. Swatches of fabric in a variety of colors and textures were strewn over the backs of the chairs. The table next to one of them was littered with yarn, streamers of ribbon, bows, feathers and imitation fruit.

Though he made no sound, Lily’s head came up as if she sensed his presence. Her gaze snared his and he felt the familiar stirring of heat. This time it settled low in his groin and his sex stirred to life. The air seemed to thicken and warm between them until his shaft rode hard against his belly. Royal was glad he was wearing his riding coat to hide his unwanted desire.

A door closed down the hall, breaking the moment, and Lily jolted to her feet. “Your Grace … I—I hope you don’t mind … Mrs. McBride said it would be all right if I used this room for my sewing. She said it was rare anyone ever came in here.”

“It isn’t a problem. You are welcome to use the room for as long as you wish.” He glanced at the array of items that seemed in no way connected to any given purpose. “But if I may ask—what exactly is it you are sewing?”

She held up the item in her lap. “Hats, Your Grace. I fashion ladies’ bonnets.” She retrieved a finished product off the table in front of her, a bonnet of mauve silk with a wide brim surrounded by dyed feathers and velvet bows. The hat should have looked gaudy, but it did not.

“I think you must be very good at making hats, Miss Moran.”

She smiled and it felt as if something pulled loose inside him.

“I believe I am, Your Grace. Not to be immodest, but I sell a very good number. Usually I have trouble finding time to fill all my orders.”

“Good for you.”

“I suppose making hats isn’t exactly the thing, but I hope one day to open my own millinery shop.”

“I think if you want your own shop, you will have it. I believe you could have whatever it is you want, Miss Lily Moran.”

She stared at him and something flickered in her sea-green eyes, then it was gone.

“I hope you are right. I can hardly live with the Caulfields forever. Once you and Jocelyn are married, I shall wish to go out on my own.”

He didn’t offer a place for her there. If he did, sooner or later, he would give in to the powerful temptation she posed. Lily deserved more than a brief seduction and so did the woman he intended to wed.

“Most women think to marry,” he said softly. “They want a husband and children.”

“I want that, too … someday.” She grinned, giving him a saucy look that made him want to kiss her. “But not until I have my shop!”

Royal laughed and so did she. He cleared his throat. “I suppose I should leave so that you can get back to your work.”

She looked down at the bonnet in her hand. “I suppose you should.”

“Have a good afternoon, Miss Moran.”

“You, as well, Your Grace.” Her eyes held his a moment longer, then she jerked her gaze away and sat back down on the sofa. Royal watched the delicate hands, the slender, feminine fingers working the needle through the fabric, and clamped down on an image of those elegant hands skimming over his naked body.

Turning away, he strode to the door of the drawing room without looking back. Silently he prayed God would see that the woman he meant to marry arrived at the castle very soon.