“How dreadful! Nothing serious, I hope?”
His scowl deepened. “Just another attack of the vapors.” He looked around, then lowered his voice conspiratorially. “She is getting on in years, you know.”
Kassie fought the laughter that bubbled in her chest. “Oh, I understand.”
The earl brightened. “It does permit me a great deal of freedom, however.” He took a step closer. “Freedom to indulge in … whatever I wish.”
“Lord Lockersham, really!” Kassie never replied to the ludicrous, lecherous proposal she had just received, for just then an elderly woman with snow-white hair and a huge tiara scurried up to them. “Must you monopolize all of the young woman’s time? We would all like to get to know her better.” She smiled at Kassie, but the smile was frosty. In fact, with her sharp little teeth, her long, pointy nose, and her small beady eyes, she much resembled a lethal barracuda.
Kassie swallowed, ready to protect herself.
“I am Agatha Wurlington, the Dowager Duchess of Cromsmire,” she announced, as if the title equalled that of King George himself.
“It is a pleasure, Your Grace,” Kassie answered, wondering wildly where Braden had gone.
“Hm-m-m,” was the reply as the dowager duchess sized up the new bride’s appearance with undisguised censure. “It is easy to see what attracted Braden to you.” It sounded more a criticism than a compliment, and Kassie closed her cold fingers around the solid weight of her wedding band, taking comfort in its presence.
“Many things attracted me to my wife … her incomparable beauty was just one of them.” Magically Braden appeared and handed Kassie a glass of punch. “I am sorry, darling,” he said smoothly, “to have been gone so long. I was waylaid on a business matter.”
Kassie looked up at him gratefully. “And has it been resolved?” she asked sweetly, knowing that all eyes and ears were upon them.
Braden grinned, enjoying the performance. “No, but it will wait until later. For now”—he winked at her—“I want to be with my new bride.” With that he turned to Agatha Wurlington. “Have the two of you been introduced?”
The elderly woman nodded. “Yes, your … duchess and I were just becoming acquainted.”
Braden gave her a practiced smile. “I must ask that you continue your chat another time. There are so many people I want Kassie to meet. You understand.” He didn’t wait to see if the dowager understood or not but merely steered Kassie deeper into the room. He heard her sigh of relief and chuckled quietly. “That bad?”
“Worse,” she admitted.
“You’re doing beautifully. I’m half convinced that it was you and not I who was born to this world.”
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered.
He looked down at her, his eyes growing soft and tender. “I won’t, sweetheart. You can count on that.”
Kassie’s hand was kissed more times that morning than in all her eighteen years combined. But each moment that passed without mishap she relaxed a bit more. As did Braden. Just the same, he stayed by her side as much as possible, to ward off any unexpected comments or probing questions. And as if they sensed their host’s unspoken warning, the guests were on their best behavior, the ladies flattering and friendly, the gentlemen charming and entertaining. In fact, so absorbed were the guests in their merriment that no one noticed the ruckus occurring just outside Sherburgh’s front doors. No one but Charles Graves.
“Let me pass! That’s m’daughter getting married in there!” Robert Grey staggered forward in an attempt to push by one of the equally stubborn footmen who guarded the entranceway.
“No, sir. I have my orders,” the servant returned, blocking Grey’s path.
“Orders? From whom?”
“From His Grace. No one is permitted inside the house without an invitation.”
Robert frowned. “I must’ve misplaced mine.”
The burly footman scowled at the disheveled man before him. “I’m
His scowl deepened. “Just another attack of the vapors.” He looked around, then lowered his voice conspiratorially. “She is getting on in years, you know.”
Kassie fought the laughter that bubbled in her chest. “Oh, I understand.”
The earl brightened. “It does permit me a great deal of freedom, however.” He took a step closer. “Freedom to indulge in … whatever I wish.”
“Lord Lockersham, really!” Kassie never replied to the ludicrous, lecherous proposal she had just received, for just then an elderly woman with snow-white hair and a huge tiara scurried up to them. “Must you monopolize all of the young woman’s time? We would all like to get to know her better.” She smiled at Kassie, but the smile was frosty. In fact, with her sharp little teeth, her long, pointy nose, and her small beady eyes, she much resembled a lethal barracuda.
Kassie swallowed, ready to protect herself.
“I am Agatha Wurlington, the Dowager Duchess of Cromsmire,” she announced, as if the title equalled that of King George himself.
“It is a pleasure, Your Grace,” Kassie answered, wondering wildly where Braden had gone.
“Hm-m-m,” was the reply as the dowager duchess sized up the new bride’s appearance with undisguised censure. “It is easy to see what attracted Braden to you.” It sounded more a criticism than a compliment, and Kassie closed her cold fingers around the solid weight of her wedding band, taking comfort in its presence.
“Many things attracted me to my wife … her incomparable beauty was just one of them.” Magically Braden appeared and handed Kassie a glass of punch. “I am sorry, darling,” he said smoothly, “to have been gone so long. I was waylaid on a business matter.”
Kassie looked up at him gratefully. “And has it been resolved?” she asked sweetly, knowing that all eyes and ears were upon them.
Braden grinned, enjoying the performance. “No, but it will wait until later. For now”—he winked at her—“I want to be with my new bride.” With that he turned to Agatha Wurlington. “Have the two of you been introduced?”
The elderly woman nodded. “Yes, your … duchess and I were just becoming acquainted.”
Braden gave her a practiced smile. “I must ask that you continue your chat another time. There are so many people I want Kassie to meet. You understand.” He didn’t wait to see if the dowager understood or not but merely steered Kassie deeper into the room. He heard her sigh of relief and chuckled quietly. “That bad?”
“Worse,” she admitted.
“You’re doing beautifully. I’m half convinced that it was you and not I who was born to this world.”
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered.
He looked down at her, his eyes growing soft and tender. “I won’t, sweetheart. You can count on that.”
Kassie’s hand was kissed more times that morning than in all her eighteen years combined. But each moment that passed without mishap she relaxed a bit more. As did Braden. Just the same, he stayed by her side as much as possible, to ward off any unexpected comments or probing questions. And as if they sensed their host’s unspoken warning, the guests were on their best behavior, the ladies flattering and friendly, the gentlemen charming and entertaining. In fact, so absorbed were the guests in their merriment that no one noticed the ruckus occurring just outside Sherburgh’s front doors. No one but Charles Graves.
“Let me pass! That’s m’daughter getting married in there!” Robert Grey staggered forward in an attempt to push by one of the equally stubborn footmen who guarded the entranceway.
“No, sir. I have my orders,” the servant returned, blocking Grey’s path.
“Orders? From whom?”
“From His Grace. No one is permitted inside the house without an invitation.”
Robert frowned. “I must’ve misplaced mine.”
The burly footman scowled at the disheveled man before him. “I’m
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