Part 19 (2/2)
”What happens on Friday?” Bronwyn asked.
Sorcha brightened. ”Sir Henry's having a dinner, and he's promised games to liven up the evening.”
”That will be fun.” Bronwyn rose to her feet, Sorcha following suit. Mairi opened the sitting room door and they headed toward the stairs.
Mama stopped at the bottom of the steps. ”I shall wait for Papa to return. He shouldn't be long. Good night, girls.”
As Sorcha and Mairi chattered on about who'd worn what and who had said what, Bronwyn followed. When she reached the landing she glanced back, just as Mama bent to pick something up from the floor.
Bronwyn's heart stuttered. It was a man's glove. Alexsey's glove.
Mama looked up, her gaze meeting Bronwyn's.
Without thinking, Bronwyn turned and hurried back downstairs. ”You found it!”
Not giving her stepmother more time to think, Bronwyn s.n.a.t.c.hed the glove from her hands and tucked it into her own pocket. ”I bought a pair of gloves for Papa's birthday and lost one of them.”
”How did it come to be here?”
”The- My dogs must have carried it here. I shouldn't have allowed them in the house.”
”You had them indoors again? You promised not to.”
”I know, but I was feeling poorly, and they're such good company.”
”Your Papa's birthday isn't for another two months. You are planning well in advance.”
”Yes, I happened to see these in a window and knew they'd be perfect for Papa, so . . . I got them.”
Mama's gaze never left Bronwyn's face. ”It seems rather large for him. Perhaps I should look at it again.”
”Oh, he won't care. He's not exactly a fas.h.i.+on plate, is he?” With a forced smile, Bronwyn turned toward the steps.
”Bronwyn?”
Oh G.o.d, does she suspect? Please don't let her think anything, please! Bronwyn pasted a smile on her face and turned back to her stepmother. ”Yes?”
”I'm glad you're feeling better.”
”Much better, thank you. My ear doesn't hurt at all now.”
”Good. Sleep well, my dear.”
”Good night.” Her heart thudding, Bronwyn hurried up the stairs, aware of her stepmother's gaze following her.
Lady MacClinton looked at Lucinda, pity in her old eyes. ”My dear, society was not developed to protect the heart, but to prevent your heart from engaging on its own.”
-The Black Duke by Miss Mary Edgeworth ”If you are determined to be in a foul mood, pray take yourself elsewhere.”
Alexsey, who'd been scowling into the fireplace, sent a black look at Strath. ”If you dislike my mood, feel free to leave.”
”This is my uncle's study.” He eyed the gla.s.s of scotch in Alexsey's hand, went to the sideboard and poured himself a gla.s.s, and then came to stand near Alexsey.
They were dressed in formal dinner wear, although Strath's fingers itched to do something about Alexsey's casually knotted cravat. ”What's wrong, my friend? You've been like a bear with a sore paw for the last few days.”
”Roza is avoiding me. I've been to visit three days in a row now, and she won't see me alone. I fear I've frightened her away.”
Strath frowned. ”What did you do? She seems rather fearless.”
Alexsey shrugged. ”She is fearless for herself, but not for her sisters. If there were a scandal, she would feel responsible.”
”Ah. Then you need to be more discreet.”
Right now, he was willing to do anything but give up on her. For the last three days, he'd been unable to think of anything but Bronwyn. Of her sighs. Of her kisses. Of her soft skin. Of her pa.s.sion as she writhed against him. Of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, so lushly plump that his hands couldn't contain them.
The memories made him burn with the desperation of a man dying of thirst in a desert. ”I must meet her without her sisters and mother.”
”Ah yes. The chaperone problem. In France you'd have no problem seeing a single lady alone, providing her chaperone was in an adjoining room. And if you slipped a few coins into that hand, sometimes you could sweep your lady away for hours on end, with no one the wiser.”
”In Oxenburg, we do not treat women as gla.s.s vases in a case, or expect them to perform tricks. Yesterday, I sat for two hours in the b.l.o.o.d.y sitting room while Lady Malvinea tried to talk Miss Mairi into playing the pianoforte.”
Strath shuddered.
”Indeed. Thank G.o.d she refused.”
”Does Miss Bronwyn play?”
”She sings, but only when drunk.”
Strath's mouth dropped open.
”From laudanum. She had an earache.”
”Ah. I couldn't imagine otherwise.”
Alexsey sighed. ”This morning, I briefly saw her and her mother in town.” Bronwyn had been wearing a straw bonnet that framed her face adorably. He'd itched to take it off and let her thick hair down, one pin at a time. He'd imagined doing so all day. ”Bronwyn's mother watches me.”
”If Lady Malvinea is giving you the eye, she's likely mentally measuring you for a groom's coat for Miss Sorcha.” A bitter note chilled Strath's voice. ”My uncle says Lady Malvinea has been hinting that she believes her ripest, juiciest plum is worth nothing less than a royal tiara.”
Alexsey sipped his scotch. ”She'll never receive one from me.”
Curiosity was bright in the other man's gaze. ”You've no interest at all in that diamond of the first water?”
”None.”
Strath regarded his gla.s.s with a thoughtful air, then sent a cautious glance at Alexsey. ”I have to wonder . . . I've never seen you pursue a woman with such intensity. Don't lose sight of your original intent, a harmless flirtation with a pretty woman and thwarting your meddling grandmother.”
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