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Royal's Bride
Royal's Bride

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Royal's Bride

Язык: Английский
Год издания: 2019
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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.

Six

Amid great fanfare and household commotion, the duke’s future bride arrived. A boy from the village rushed in with the news, giving the duke and his meager staff time for last-minute preparations, his aunt to make her way to a seat in the Grand Drawing Room—and Lily time to compose herself.

She was grateful for that. She knew what would happen when Jocelyn arrived. His Grace would be stunned by the beauty of his future wife and Lily would become invisible. It was inevitable and yet just thinking about it made her ache a little inside.

Half the household hovered in the entry as the Caulfields’ fully restored, elegant black traveling coach rolled up in front of the castle. Footmen rushed down the steps to unload the carriage, a groom appeared to help the driver with the horses, and the housekeeper, Mrs. McBride, a short, stout woman with iron-gray hair, appeared in the entry to assist the guests.

The butler held open the heavy wooden door and Matilda Caulfield marched into the entry like the duchess she meant for her daughter to become. A few steps behind her, Jocelyn swept into the house.

One of the footmen stopped dead in his tracks.

The butler’s watery blue eyes focused and stared.

Dressed in an amethyst gown that matched the brilliant color of her eyes, Jocelyn was stunningly beautiful, her features perfectly symmetrical in her pale, exquisite face. Her nose was straight, her lips the shade of roses. Her thick chestnut hair, pulled back in glossy curls, nestled against her shoulders.

Perhaps she had stopped at the inn in the village to freshen and change, for her gown was the height of fashion and not the least bit wrinkled or travel-stained. High-necked and long-sleeved, it showed not the slightest glimpse of her voluptuous bosom and yet the tempting swell beneath the gleaming silk was apparent above her tiny, corseted waist.

Jocelyn spotted the duke, standing in the entry to greet her, and her eyes widened in pleasure at his tall, golden masculinity, equal and opposite to her own feminine appeal.

Lily felt a sickening lurch inside her as the duke stepped forward. He bowed slightly to Matilda Caulfield and then to Jo. “Welcome to Bransford Castle,” he said. “My aunt and I have been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

Matilda Caulfield, tall and broad-hipped, with the same dark hair as her daughter’s but now streaked with silver, managed a pleasant nod of greeting. “As we have been eager to get here.”

Jocelyn graced him with one of her heart-stopping smiles. “Thank you for inviting us, Your Grace.”

Formal introductions were made all round. Lady Tavistock was smiling, looking pleased with the bride the late duke had chosen. All Lily wanted to do was run away.

“I am glad you arrived safely,” the duke said. “I hope your journey was not too unpleasant.”

“Not at all,” Matilda said.

“The roads were dreadful,” said Jo with an airy wave of her hand. “I told Mother we should wait another few days, give the roads a chance to dry out, but she wouldn’t listen. We suffered for it, I can tell you. Wet, cold and miserable all the way here.” She sighed dramatically. “At any rate, we are here now and that is all that matters.”

The duke’s tawny eyes assessed her. “Indeed,” was all he said. He turned to the housekeeper. “I am sure the ladies are tired from their journey. Mrs. McBride, would you please show our guests up to their rooms.”

“Certainly, Your Grace.”

The household once more scurried into action, footmen running up the stairs, hauling trunks and satchels and hatboxes, the upstairs chambermaids making a final check of the guest rooms.

“I hope you will find your accommodations satisfactory,” the duke said. “Your cousin, Miss Moran, has made every effort to make sure you are comfortable.”

Matilda tossed Lily a glance. “I am certain we will be.”

Jocelyn hurried over to Lily and took hold of her hand. “I’ve missed you, Lily. Come upstairs with me, won’t you? You can help me unpack and decide what to wear down to supper.”

Lily just nodded. Waiting for the group to follow the housekeeper up the stairs, she fell in behind the assembly making its way to the second floor. As she passed the duke, she wasn’t the least surprised to see his tawny gaze following Jocelyn’s sensuous figure up the wide carved staircase.

Her stomach quivered. Ignoring a ridiculous feeling of abandonment, she continued up the stairs behind her cousin.

That night, Lily took supper in her room. Though Jocelyn tried to coax her into joining the group in the dining room, it was time she returned to the shadows.

Matilda Caulfield did not press the issue.

“My God, man.” Sheridan Knowles stood next to Royal in the entry. Halfway up the staircase, Jocelyn made her way to her room on the second floor. Sherry had arrived unannounced, as usual, two days after the Caulfields’ arrival. Royal had introduced him to Jocelyn, who afterward excused herself and was now on her way upstairs for her afternoon nap.

Both men watched until she disappeared.

“My God.” Sherry still stared.

“You’ve already said that.” Turning, Royal walked past him down the hall into his study. Sherry followed him inside and closed the door.

“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Royal paused at the sideboard and poured himself a liberal shot of brandy, which seemed to be a habit these days. “She’s beautiful. I can hardly argue with that.”

He had just finished luncheon with his aunt, his future bride and her mother, an affair that seemed to have no end.

“Your father certainly came through for you.”

Royal took a swallow of his drink. “He certainly did.”

Sheridan tipped his head back, studying Royal down the length of his slightly too-long nose. “She certainly won’t be a burden to bed.”

“I’m a man. She’s an extremely beautiful woman. It will hardly be a burden.”

Sherry eyed him shrewdly. “All right, so what is it you don’t like about her?”

Royal blew out a breath, raked a hand through his dark blond hair. “Nothing. At least nothing that would keep me from marrying her. It is merely that we share very few common interests.”

“What does that have to do with anything? You will marry her, bed her and she will give you children. On top of that, you will have the luxury of making every man in London jealous of your incredibly beautiful wife. Along with that neat little package, you will also gain control of her incredible dowry and very sizable inheritance. What more could any man ask?”

He shook his head. “Nothing, I guess. Jocelyn will make the perfect duchess, just as my father said.”

Royal took another drink, set the brandy snifter down on his desk. “Apparently, she’s a very good horsewoman. After her rest, I’m showing her a bit of the estate.”

His future bride seemed to require a good deal of rest, he thought, sleeping late in the mornings, then napping half the afternoon. He tried not to think of Lily, working dawn till dusk to prepare the house for her cousins. When she wasn’t moving furniture or seeing that the rugs were beaten, she was fashioning bonnets for her wealthy clientele. He couldn’t remember Lily every complaining about being tired.

“So she likes horses, does she?”

“Apparently.”

“There—you see, you do have something in common. Tell me, how do you think she feels about you?”

How did Jocelyn feel? He wasn’t sure. His future wife wasn’t an easy person to read. Either she was good at controlling her emotions or she didn’t have any.

“I don’t know her well enough to tell. Perhaps she will open up a bit more this afternoon, when we are away from her mother.” They would be riding with a groom, of course, since neither Mrs. Caulfield nor his great-aunt Agatha could act as chaperone. He was actually looking forward to the ride, hoping he would discover something in his bride-to-be that would draw them together.

Sherry sank into one of the leather chairs in front of the fire, draped a long leg over the arm. “Well, if you decide you don’t want her, let me know. I’ll be happy to act as a substitute groom.”

Royal grunted. “I thought you wanted Lily.”

Sheridan grinned, exposing his crooked bottom teeth. “She doesn’t come with a fortune, my friend.”

Royal downed the last of his drink. “That I should marry Jocelyn and rebuild the Bransford fortune was my father’s dying wish. I promised him I would see it done and there is nothing on this earth that could stop me from keeping my word.”

Sherry rose from his chair. “Then I shall hold good thoughts for you this afternoon. May you find in your delectable companion whatever it is you seek in a suitable bride.”

Royal gave a faint nod of thanks, knowing Sherry meant every word. He was a man whose friendship Royal valued greatly.

“I suppose I had better go out to the stable and find the lady a suitable mount. Thank God my father didn’t sell all of his blooded horses.”

“One last piece of advice?” Sherry offered, not really seeking his permission. “Kiss the lady. That ought to give you some idea of how the woman feels.”

Royal smiled. It wasn’t a bad idea. As Sherry followed him out of the study, Royal thought that for once he might actually heed his friend’s advice.

“Help me with the buttons, will you, Lily?” Jocelyn presented her back then stood impatiently as her cousin buttoned her sapphire velvet riding habit. It was cut in the military fashion, with rows of small brass buttons marching up the front. Jocelyn had only just received it, along with her latest order from the modiste. Lily had fashioned the matching miniature top hat, which Jocelyn thought complemented the outfit quite nicely.

She settled it at a jaunty angle on top of her head, pinned it in place and pulled the tiny scrap of veil down just enough to cover her forehead.

“How do I look?” She turned to give Lily a better view.

“Hold still.” Lily walked over and shoved a pin into Jocelyn’s hair, fastening a stray curl in place, then stepped back to assess her. “You look perfect. The duke will not be able to take his eyes off you.”

Jocelyn frowned. “Do you think he is truly pleased with me? It is difficult to tell how he feels.”

“The man is a duke. He is trained not to show his emotions. I am sure that is all it is. This afternoon, he will have you mostly to himself. Perhaps he will let down his guard a bit.”

Jocelyn certainly hoped so. She had been sure the duke would be far more impressed with her than he seemed to be. He hadn’t made one comment about her beauty, as most men did. In fact, he seemed to have only marginal interest in spending time with her.

Perhaps he was simply busy with his affairs. His estate was vast. There was surely a good deal to do to keep it running smoothly. Today would be different, she told herself.

“Have a nice time,” Lily said as Jocelyn made her way toward the door.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”

“You know I don’t ride very well. Besides, this is your chance to get to know him.”

Jocelyn nodded. She was looking forward to the afternoon, of course, but there was something about the duke that made her nervous. She flirted and teased as she usually did, but he seemed to pay little attention. At luncheon she had told a very funny story about a house party she had attended where one of the chambermaids took a tumble down an entire flight of stairs and landed in front of very proper Sir Edward Marley.

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