Reluctant Bride

Reluctant Bride by Joan Smith

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Authors: Joan Smith
Tags: Regency Romance
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quick. But it was likely done when he went downstairs after I gave him a good tongue-lashing. Well, Auntie, I am very much afraid you are going to have a sleepless night. We will get nothing settled with him till morning. I wonder if they stay the whole night, these women.”
    “It is not proper for you to conjecture on such matters, Lizzie.”
    “That elastic morality of yours has snapped back into place, I see.”
    There was a sharp knocking at the door. “Did you order anything?” I asked her.
    “No, nothing.”
    I opened the door to see Sir Edmund standing there with his jacket thrown on, not buttoned, and a cravat very much awry. He had taken time to pull on his boots. “May I come in?” he asked, then barged past me without awaiting an answer.
    I peeked my head out the door to glance down the hall. “You are alone?” I asked pointedly.
    “As you see,” he replied, trying to sound offhand. He turned to Maisie, ignoring me. “How does the ankle go on, Maisie? Not too painful, I hope?”
    “The swelling has started to go out of it,” she admitted, happy to avoid the subject she knew I wished to raise. “I’ll be ready to hit the road again by morning. Lizzie tells me you are leaving us.”
    “Certainly not! Where did she get that idea?” he asked, assuming a pose of astonishment.
    “You expressed the intention of not sharing a carriage with my dog,” I reminded him, while more interesting phrases churned round inside my head. His wary regard told me he was well aware of it.
    “No, no. I was joking, of course. I thought you knew it.”
    “No, Sir Edmund, I never look for a joke from you.”
    “I have every intention of going to Fareham. I came to ask at what hour you would like to leave in the morning.”
    “You need not have interrupted your—business?—only for that,” I told him. “We have no notion of leaving before dawn, or anything of the sort.”
    “I was not busy,” he said, in a flat, bored voice.
    “Then I expect you are very eager to return to your room to get busy. Pray do not let us detain you. Eight, shall we say? Or perhaps a later hour would suit you better . . . .” I suggested helpfully.
    “Eight is fine. Let us meet for breakfast at eight belowstairs.”
    “Agreed. We shall let you go now,” I said, taking his elbow to pilot him to the door. He shook me off.
    “I thought a glass of wine might help your aunt sleep more comfortably,” he said.
    “I was just thinking the same thing,” Maisie answered.
     “I shall order us some, Auntie. Sir Edmund has company. He will not like to keep his guest waiting.”
    “There is no one in my room,” he said, looking off toward the window, to avoid looking at me. I did not refute the statement verbally, but only looked all my disbelief at him. “The person you saw just stepped in in passing, to see if I had had any luck in finding Greenie.”
    “She reads minds, does she, that she knew you were looking for him?”
    “I mentioned it to her earlier,” he said quickly, then remembered, I believe, having told me he had not time to ask her. “I mean—later. Not the first time I spoke to her.”
    “Ah, yes, that would be about two minutes before she popped in to see if you had found him yet.”
    Having no reply, he ignored it. “I had ordered wine, and meant to offer her a glass. I mistook you for a servant when you knocked. You should not have rushed off so precipitately, Miss Braden. My guest took the idea you did not wish for her acquaintance.”
    “She was correct. A gentleman does not customarily introduce ladies to such females as your guest, if I am not mistaken.”
    “You judge severely. There was nothing amiss with the girl that I could see.”
    “Indeed? I should take it sadly amiss if any chance caller of mine, a virtual stranger of the opposite sex, decided to cast off his clothing in my chamber, but then I am old-fashioned.”
    Another knock sounded at the door. I was seized with a wild hope the hussy had come

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