The Highlander's English Bride Page 6

  Sabrina gave a shrug, her shoulders as silky and smooth as her shimmering ivory gown. “My godfather—that would be the king—would not agree. He’s quite mad for Scotland. He’s considering a visit to Edinburgh in the near future.”

  The marquess lost his smarmy smile when he realized he was losing the battle.

  “Careful, old man,” Graeme said. “Your irritation is showing.”

  Reggie covered his mouth, as if to smother a laugh.

  “Visiting Edinburgh would be sadly unwise of His Majesty, since the Scots are hardly loyal subjects of the Crown. Always dreaming of rebellion and their glorious past.” Cringlewood sneered with contempt.

  Graeme laughed. “It’s the nineteenth century. We’ve been loyal to king and country for decades.”

  Mostly. His grandfather, for one, wouldn’t be averse to giving old King Georgie a shove into a cold loch.

  “Any talk of rebellion is spoken only by fools,” Graeme added.

  “Did you just call me a fool, Kendrick?” the marquess demanded.

  Sabrina tapped Graeme’s arm with her fan. “I do believe our waltz is beginning, sir.”

  She rose, forcing Cringlewood to do the same. The marquess loomed over her, radiating repressed rage as Graeme took her hand.

  Reggie cast a troubled glance at Sabrina.

  “Is something amiss, my lord?” she asked Cringlewood with chilly courtesy.

  He quickly gathered his manners and flashed an artificial smile. “I’m simply disappointed to lose your company, dear lady. Perhaps you’ll save me a dance?”

  Her fingers gripped Graeme’s hand.

  “I’m afraid all my dances are spoken for, my lord.”

  “With me, for one,” Reggie said with a shy smile. “Don’t forget we’re doing the country dances. If you’re not tired by then, that is.”

  She rewarded the young man with a brilliant smile. “I would never be too tired to dance with you, Reggie. And perhaps you can take me down to supper afterward.”

  The lad beamed. “Of course. Mamma would be ever so pleased if I escorted you.”

  “Of course your mamma will be pleased,” Cringlewood drawled. “Quite the coup for you to secure the most charming guest for supper. You leave the rest of us in the dust, dear boy.”

  Reggie’s uneven complexion mottled red in response to the bastard’s sarcastic tone.

  “Her ladyship has snagged an excellent supper partner,” Graeme said, winking at Reggie. “Certainly the nicest, which I intend to tell his excellent mother as soon as I see her.”

  When the young man flashed a grateful smile, Sabrina squeezed Graeme’s hand before letting go and taking his arm.

  “I’ll see you later, Reggie.” She gave Cringlewood a brief nod. “My lord.”

  Resisting the impulse to flash his teeth at the fuming marquess, Graeme escorted Sabrina toward the door. Curious gazes and whisperings accompanied them.

  “Sorry about all that,” he quietly said.

  “It couldn’t be helped, given his lordship’s behavior.” She darted Graeme a sideways glance. “But that dreadful little scene would not have occurred if you hadn’t decided to come to my rescue. I assume that’s what you were doing, wasn’t it?”

  “I suppose.”

  As far as rescues went, it wasn’t one of his better ones, since it had drawn a fat lot of attention. Aden would not approve, nor would Graeme’s family.

  Jumped before you looked, as usual.

  “What made you think I needed rescuing?” Sabrina inquired as they crossed into the hall. “After all, I was simply sitting in a drawing room, surrounded by other guests. It’s hardly the middle of a battlefield, or even Hyde Park in a rainstorm.”

  For a moment, Graeme had the gruesome sensation that he’d made a capital blunder. “Oh. Well, you see—”

  She huffed out an infectious chuckle. “I’m teasing, sir. As it happens, I was very happy to be rescued.”

  He smiled with relief. “I suppose I earned a teasing, after the way I ordered you about in the park.”

  “Nonsense. You were exceedingly kind and patient with me there.”

  “I was?”

  “Well, most of the time. You must admit, however, that it was a very embarrassing situation. I was not at my best.”

  Graeme had a sudden mental flash of sodden clothing clinging to plump breasts. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

  Her smile turned quizzical. “Then you are a very kind man, Mr. Kendrick, since I cannot be counted as anything but a nuisance to you. And I’m sorry you were forced to put up with Lord Cringlewood’s rudeness.” She shook her head. “Honestly, what a dreadful man.”

  “Och, lass, don’t worry about me. It was the poor lad I truly felt for.”

  “Yes, I was angry about how he treated Reggie. His lordship was fortunate I didn’t throw a drink in his face.” She exhaled a sigh. “Now you know how rude I can be, as well as how poor a judge of character I am. You must be quite shocked.”

  “Utterly appalled. I feel faint with horror, if you must know.”

  “I’m sure,” she replied, amused. “But you must also see that I’m perfectly capable of managing dreary Lord Cringlewood. The only true danger from him is being pestered to death. I suspect I shall have to speak strongly to him, at some point.”

  Graeme held his peace until they entered the ballroom. Then he drew her behind the marginal shelter of a marble column.

  She frowned. “Are we dancing, or was that simply a ruse?”

  “We’ll dance in a moment. But first you must promise not to speak to Cringlewood again. In fact, avoid him completely, if possible.”

  The lingering humor in her pretty gaze faded. “So, Vivien’s rather vague warning was not strong enough, I take it. What aren’t you telling me, Mr. Kendrick?”

  “What did Vivien say?”

  “Just that Lord Cringlewood was not a nice man, and that he was in financial straits. In fact, I’d already deduced that he was not a nice man—”

  “Because he stood you up?”

  A blush pinked up her elegant cheekbones. “It . . . it was partly that. But he never should have asked me in the first place, and I should never have agreed. I’m quite ashamed to have made such a blunder.”

  “We all make mistakes.” That one, however, could have ruined her life.

  “I don’t,” she said firmly.

  Graeme bit back a grin. The lass had a full measure of confidence, and then some.

  He waved a hand toward the dance floor, where the guests were taking their places for the second waltz of the evening.

  She shook her head. “Not yet. I want to know why I should avoid Lord Cringlewood. Obviously, I will not be accepting his suit—”

  “I should bloody well hope not.”

  He’d kill Cringlewood before that happened. But he also realized he didn’t like the idea of her accepting anyone’s suit.

  Idiot. You just met the woman.

  “What are you and Vivien so concerned about?” Sabrina pressed.

  “Best to just leave it at that, lass.”

  Her mouth twitched with irritation. “I have a right to know, Mr. Kendrick. If Lord Cringlewood is more than just s typical fortune hunter, he shouldn’t be allowed to swan about the ton, courting unsuspecting women.”

  Graeme couldn’t disagree with that, but how much to tell her?

  “Let me think about it, then.”

  He gently pulled her from behind the column and swept her into a gap in the colorful throng. Sabrina let out a delicate snort but gracefully came into his arms.

  For a few minutes, Graeme let himself relish the mundane yet now somehow profound act of dancing with a pretty girl. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d drifted away on the music and motion, letting all his thoughts and cares drift away, too. How long it had been since he’d just . . . felt. Now he relished the sensation of Sabrina’s trim figure held lightly but securely in his embrace, the swish of her bright yellow skirts skirling around his leg
s. She was lithe and light-footed, and followed his steps with easy assurance.

  Even better than his enjoyment was her enjoyment, shining through in her bright gaze and in the upward tilt of her rosebud mouth. That Lady Sabrina Bell was a canny lass and nobody’s fool was evident enough. But there was also an innocent verve about her, so fresh and appealing that it stirred a visceral response deep within him—something that seemed perilously close to happiness.

  It was such a wee frippery, this dance, and yet Graeme found himself wanting this feeling again and again. Wanting her.

  That was the perilous part. It was stupid and impossible and all the things that made such emotion the height of idiocy.

  Sabrina Bell came from a world that was no longer his, a comfortable, peaceful world inhabited by comfortable, peaceful people. Graeme had strayed beyond that world some time ago and could never go back.

  Nor did he want to go back, knowing what he did about the dangers lurking at the edge of that peace and comfort. That other world needed men like him, willing to do the ugly, dirty work necessary to protect it.

  Protect her.

  As the music rose to a flourishing conclusion, Graeme skimmed his partner to the edge of the crowd, turning one more circle before halting. His gaze locked with Sabrina’s in a disconcerting and intimate understanding, as if they’d both gone into the Serpentine that day as strangers but had emerged from that chilly water as something much more.

  Sabrina blinked and stepped out of his arms with a self-conscious laugh. “Goodness, Mr. Kendrick, you are certainly an energetic dancer.”

  It took him a moment to answer. “I’m a Highlander, ye ken. We’re barely civilized, remember?”

  “You seem quite civilized to me. On the surface, at least,” she added, as if to herself.

  That was a bit too close to the mark. “May I fetch you a cup of punch? Or take you back to your . . .”

  He frowned. Who was she with tonight? There hadn’t been even the slightest hint of a chaperone, something which fit with her independent attitude.

  “Your party,” he finished.

  “No, thank you. What I’d like to do is finish our discussion about Lord Cringlewood.”

  Hell and damnation.

  He flashed his best rueful smile. “Must we?”

  “You know, I much prefer it when you’re not trying to be charming.”

  “But I’m famous for my Highland charm, ye ken.”

  “I’ve never heard that. In fact, I’d never heard about you at all until the other day.” She frowned. “How is that possible? You’ve obviously been in town for quite some time. Do you not socialize?”

  He was rather surprised she hadn’t gotten wind of the incident with the Chinese screen. “Not much at all, I admit.”

  Again she studied him as if he were an exotic species. “I see. Then perhaps you could take a moment to tell me what I need to know about the marquess before you fade back into obscurity.”

  Then she flashed a dazzling and utterly knowing smile, one guaranteed to knock the sharpest fellow off his pins. She was a vision in her pretty yellow gown, sunny from the bouncy curls at the top of her head to the tips of her fancy gold slippers. But what had emerged from her lips was more command than request. Graeme suspected she was a lassie to whom very few said no.

  “You owe me, Mr. Kendrick,” she added.

  That was debatable. Still, Sabrina seemed the sort who’d go digging, and that would not be good for her or the Kendricks. Especially Ainsley.

  “It’s a bit tricky, I’m afraid.”

  She glanced past him. “I see two empty chairs waiting just for us. Shall we sit quietly and discuss it?”

  “I have the feeling you’d chase me down if I refused,” he said dryly.

  As he led her to the chairs, he didn’t miss her smug little smile. She was insanely adorable, and he had to repress the urge to kiss that smile right off her lips.

  Sheltered by large potted palms, a shallow window bay afforded a semblance of privacy while maintaining propriety. He handed her into one of the chairs, then carefully sat in the other. A spindly, fashionable thing, it creaked under his weight. Graeme hoped he would not find himself sitting on the floor in yet another pile of expensive wood.

  The lady neatly folded her hands and gave him a nod, as if giving him permission to start.

  Easier said than done.

  “Mr. Kendrick,” she said after he remained silent, “aside from his rude behavior—which his lordship was adept at concealing until now—how bad can it be? Is Cringlewood completely in dun territory? While that would be an unpleasant revelation, the marquess would not be the first man intent on gaining my fortune through the wedded state.”

  He grimaced. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Don’t be. The positives generally outweigh the negatives.”

  She was refreshingly blunt for a society miss.

  “It’s true that Cringlewood’s pockets are severely let. He’s been forced to rusticate and sell off whatever wasn’t entailed to the estate.”

  “Is that the real reason he went to the Continent? He told me he was buying art.”

  “He was fleeing his debts.” And fleeing Aden St. George and the Kendricks, but she didn’t need to know that.

  She frowned. “It seems rather foolish to have come back, then.”

  “As you mentioned to Vivien, he has friends at Court.”

  “I see.” She crinkled her nose. “Thank you for the warning, sir. I will keep the marquess at arm’s length, and there will certainly be no more assignations in the park.”

  “No assignations, anywhere,” he sharply replied. “He’s completely untrustworthy.”

  She looked startled for a moment, but then gently rested her gloved hand on his arm. Graeme had a mad urge to gather her up and keep her safe from anything that could ever harm her.

  Och, yer a bloody fool.

  “You can tell me everything, you know,” she quietly said. “You have my solemn word that I will keep our conversation in the strictest confidence.”

  Trust was a hard thing for him. But her gaze, so open and earnest, convinced him.

  “Very well, then. Are you acquainted with my sister-in-law, Lady Ainsley Kendrick?”

  “Lady Ainsley is a few years older than I, but our families know each other.” She flashed that brief, sunny smile, the one Graeme was beginning to like quite a lot. “She’s so lovely and witty, and had a legion of suitors, as I recall.”

  Lovely was certainly accurate, as was sharp-tongued and rather terrifying. Graeme had a great deal of admiration for Ainsley, and even more admiration for his brother for having the courage to marry her.

  “You’re just as pretty as she is, lass.”

  Sabrina scoffed. “Don’t be silly. I couldn’t hold a candle to her. None of us could.”

  “If you believed that, did it bother you?” he asked with genuine interest. In his experience, the marriage mart was more competitive than a prizefight.

  “Of course not. I have an absolutely lovely life. And it’s not been easy for Lady Ainsley, I understand. If I recall correctly, her parents cut her off when she married . . .” She trailed off.

  Graeme raised an eyebrow.

  “Heavens, I’d forgotten she was all but betrothed to Cringlewood.” Sabrina frowned. “There was something of a scandal, wasn’t there? We were in Bath at the time so my father could take the waters, so I don’t remember much.”

  “A bit more than something of a scandal,” Graeme replied.

  “One can certainly understand why Lady Ainsley would throw over Cringlewood. But to suffer a permanent breach with her family and lose her inheritance?” Sabrina shook her head. “She must have been quite in love with your brother to risk so much.”

  From her rather mystified tone, Graeme could only deduce the lass had never been in love.

  “She was indeed going to marry Cringlewood, at least initially. But he was . . . abusive to her.”

  Sabrina stare
d blankly at Graeme.

  “Physically abusive,” he tersely added.

  She gasped. “Did her parents know?”

  He nodded.

  “And they still encouraged the marriage? If so, how utterly appalling of them,” she said, disgusted.

  “The marriage settlements had already been signed. Cringlewood threatened to sue for breach of promise, as a means to pressure Ainsley’s parents.”

  Her earnest gaze went wide. “He tried to force Ainsley to marry him?”

  “Yes.”

  “But—”

  He briefly squeezed her hand. “Please understand that I can’t say more. The details are not mine to share, and my family needs to protect Ainsley’s privacy as much as possible.”

  She drew in a wavering breath. “I can appreciate that, sir. But if his lordship is as ugly a customer as you say he is—”

  “Trust me that he is.”

  “Then he shouldn’t be allowed to go about preying on unsuspecting women and their families.”

  “I agree. But it is not up to us to correct the situation.”

  “Then who will correct it?” she demanded.

  “St. George will be addressing the matter in every way possible.”

  Her gaze narrowed to frosty blue slits. “That’s not a very satisfactory answer.”

  “We must trust him to handle the situation.”

  “But—”

  “No, my lady.” He sympathized with the lass, but Ainsley needed to be protected, and Aden could be trusted to do that. “You must leave it alone. I promise Cringlewood will be dealt with.”

  Her expression suggested a desire to whack Graeme on the nose with her fan.

  “Sir, I cannot believe—”

  “There you are, Sabrina,” interrupted a querulous voice. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, my dear.”

  A few feet away, an elderly gentleman leaned on a cane, regarding them with disfavor. A slight, balding fellow, he was dressed as a tulip of the ton, with pink waistcoat, enormous cravat, and other furbelows better suited to a younger man.

  Actually, better suited to no one. The poor fellow looked ridiculous.

  Sabrina breathed out a sigh and rose. Graeme followed suit.

  “Forgive me, dearest,” she said. “I thought you were playing cards with the Duke of York.”