solving two problems at once. She needed a means of support and he needed a wife. Of course, he had not counted on . . . Dammit, he was not falling in love with her!
Beyond the insignificant little tarradiddle he was attempting to unravel at odd moments of the day, it did not signify in the least that his future bride had once fancied herself in love with another. Did not signify in the least! Still, he would like to know if . . . dammit! He slung the half-full bottle of whiskey against the gray stone hearth before him and did not move when the glass shattered, and the amber liquid pooled at his feet. There was a reason behind her stubbornness and he would uncover the truth if it killed him!
* * * *
T he following afternoon, as the three of them partook of an early tea in the drawing room, he looked for a way to broach the subject with her once again. A heavy mist had been falling all day out of doors, consequently he had been forced once again to spend the entire day inside. But, as usual, thoughts of Alayna did not permit full concentration upon the tasks he'd set before him. He feared his patience, which even on a good day was in short supply, was fast running out.
Throughout the small meal, he had been unusually silent, his dark gaze resting fitfully on the blonde beauty, who reposed on a silk sofa opposite him. Just being in her presence these days made thinking difficult. She had the creamiest ivory skin he'd ever seen on a woman, with exactly the right amount of natural flush to her cheeks and lips. That she used no paint to enhance her features was evident.
Today her bright golden hair hung loose down her back, the ends of it a riot of soft yellow curls. Thoughts of pressing those silken tresses to his cheek and tasting the sweet nectar of her lips had driven any appetite he may have had for cold watercress sandwiches and pickled nasturtiums from his mind.
Watching her take a delicate bite from the slice of cake in her hands now made him swallow convulsively. Feeling a sudden tightness in his chest, he rose to his feet and was about to exit the room when the sound of his mother's voice stopped him.
"I have been thinking, Rutherford," Lady Rathbone began, "that I should like to give you children a proper send-off."
Lord Rathbone paused in his tracks. "A send-off, Mother?"
The older woman nodded, her grey eyes twinkling merrily. "I have decided to host a ball. In honor of your wedding. It's been simply ages since we had a soiree here. What do you say, Alayna? Would be quite lovely, don't you agree?"
Lord Rathbone thought he distinctly heard Alayna gasp aloud, but could not say for certain.
"Are you quite sure you are up to such a fete, Mother?" he began. "After all, the wedding is less than ten days away. I should think that will be send-off enough."
"Oh, fiddlesticks! Surely you recall the grand affairs your father and I used to host when you were a boy. And the delightful fairs we held on the castle lawn." Suddenly, she leaned forward in her chair. "Why, we should have a fair, as well! There's been nothing like our fairs since your father passed away. We've plenty of time to put it all together!" Excitement shone on the old lady's face. "Mr. Stevens could help spread the word. And you, my boy, could post notices the next time you go up to Chester."
"Now, Mother, I hardly think . . . " Rathbone began, his dark head shaking in protest.
But suddenly Alayna spoke up. And as usual she was of a differing opinion from him. "I think it a lovely idea, Ford," she began. "Aunt Millicent is right, a fair would be great fun! If nothing else, the planning of it will give us something to do while the bad weather persists."
"And what if the bad weather refuses to let up? All our planning will have gone for naught. Unless the bridge is repaired, no one will be able to attend our grand affair."
"Oh, Rutherford, don't be such a downpin," his mother said fussily. "If Alayna wishes to have a ball, and a fair, then we shall
Beyond the insignificant little tarradiddle he was attempting to unravel at odd moments of the day, it did not signify in the least that his future bride had once fancied herself in love with another. Did not signify in the least! Still, he would like to know if . . . dammit! He slung the half-full bottle of whiskey against the gray stone hearth before him and did not move when the glass shattered, and the amber liquid pooled at his feet. There was a reason behind her stubbornness and he would uncover the truth if it killed him!
* * * *
T he following afternoon, as the three of them partook of an early tea in the drawing room, he looked for a way to broach the subject with her once again. A heavy mist had been falling all day out of doors, consequently he had been forced once again to spend the entire day inside. But, as usual, thoughts of Alayna did not permit full concentration upon the tasks he'd set before him. He feared his patience, which even on a good day was in short supply, was fast running out.
Throughout the small meal, he had been unusually silent, his dark gaze resting fitfully on the blonde beauty, who reposed on a silk sofa opposite him. Just being in her presence these days made thinking difficult. She had the creamiest ivory skin he'd ever seen on a woman, with exactly the right amount of natural flush to her cheeks and lips. That she used no paint to enhance her features was evident.
Today her bright golden hair hung loose down her back, the ends of it a riot of soft yellow curls. Thoughts of pressing those silken tresses to his cheek and tasting the sweet nectar of her lips had driven any appetite he may have had for cold watercress sandwiches and pickled nasturtiums from his mind.
Watching her take a delicate bite from the slice of cake in her hands now made him swallow convulsively. Feeling a sudden tightness in his chest, he rose to his feet and was about to exit the room when the sound of his mother's voice stopped him.
"I have been thinking, Rutherford," Lady Rathbone began, "that I should like to give you children a proper send-off."
Lord Rathbone paused in his tracks. "A send-off, Mother?"
The older woman nodded, her grey eyes twinkling merrily. "I have decided to host a ball. In honor of your wedding. It's been simply ages since we had a soiree here. What do you say, Alayna? Would be quite lovely, don't you agree?"
Lord Rathbone thought he distinctly heard Alayna gasp aloud, but could not say for certain.
"Are you quite sure you are up to such a fete, Mother?" he began. "After all, the wedding is less than ten days away. I should think that will be send-off enough."
"Oh, fiddlesticks! Surely you recall the grand affairs your father and I used to host when you were a boy. And the delightful fairs we held on the castle lawn." Suddenly, she leaned forward in her chair. "Why, we should have a fair, as well! There's been nothing like our fairs since your father passed away. We've plenty of time to put it all together!" Excitement shone on the old lady's face. "Mr. Stevens could help spread the word. And you, my boy, could post notices the next time you go up to Chester."
"Now, Mother, I hardly think . . . " Rathbone began, his dark head shaking in protest.
But suddenly Alayna spoke up. And as usual she was of a differing opinion from him. "I think it a lovely idea, Ford," she began. "Aunt Millicent is right, a fair would be great fun! If nothing else, the planning of it will give us something to do while the bad weather persists."
"And what if the bad weather refuses to let up? All our planning will have gone for naught. Unless the bridge is repaired, no one will be able to attend our grand affair."
"Oh, Rutherford, don't be such a downpin," his mother said fussily. "If Alayna wishes to have a ball, and a fair, then we shall
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