His Spanish Bride by Teresa Grant Read Free Book Online Page B

Wellington’s incisive tones carried across the room as he approached them. “Good of you to take Rannoch off our hands.”
    “I don’t think he’ll precisely be off your hands, my lord.” Suzanne extended her hand to the commander dedicated to driving the French out of Spain. “He warned me he’s likely to disappear on mysterious errands he can’t talk about at a moment’s notice.”
    “And you understood, which is precisely what makes you perfect for him.” Wellington lifted her hand to his lips. “Take good care of her, Rannoch.”
    “I intend to,” Malcolm said.
    Suzanne cast a glance up at him, startled at the seriousness in his tone. He gave a quick, defensive smile.
    Wellington’s gaze shot between them. He inclined his head and went off to speak to Stuart, but before she or Malcolm could say anything the Honorable Thomas Belmont, one of Malcolm’s fellow attachés, approached them. “Here’s the happy couple.” He lifted his champagne glass in a toast that contained a generous dash of irony. “You’re obviously an enchantress, Miss Saint-Vallier. If I could tell you the number of times I’ve heard Rannoch swear off marriage—”
    “Hardly surprising he changed his mind with Miss Saint-Vallier as an incentive.” Lord Fitzroy Somerset, Wellington’s military secretary, gave Suzanne a smile that offered support without making unwelcome comment or asking intrusive questions. “You’re a lucky man, Rannoch.”
    “I know it.” Malcolm managed a smile, but Suzanne could see the ribbing grate on his nerves like nails on a schoolroom slate.
    The least she could do was try to make it easier for him. “I’m the one who’s fortunate,” she said, slipping her hand through the crook of his arm again.
    “You’re both fortunate to have found each other,” Fitzroy said.
    Belmont rolled his eyes. “I need another drink. I seem to have stumbled into the last chapter of a lending library novel.”
    “I couldn’t be happier, my dear.” This was Malcolm’s cousin, Geoffrey Blackwell, a military doctor. Compact, dark-haired, and intense, he was determinedly unromantic and unmarried himself at close to fifty, but his smile was direct and his keen gaze friendly.
    “Thank you, Dr. Blackwell. I’m glad someone from Malcolm’s family could be here, especially as his brother can’t get back for the wedding.” Malcolm’s brother, Edgar, was a cavalry officer. “I know it must have come as a surprise.”
    “Wartime weddings often do.” Blackwell’s gaze darted from her to Malcolm. Not with disapproval, but with a hint of concern. Well, it was an impulsive marriage, and Malcolm didn’t appear the sort to do impulsive things. No wonder his friends and family were surprised. She wondered if, as a doctor, Blackwell could read signs of her condition. Even if people didn’t suspect now, they were bound to talk when her child was born six months after the wedding. “You’re neither of you strangers to risk,” Blackwell continued. “It’s a dangerous way to live. But it can have its rewards.”
    A host of emotions flickered through Malcolm’s eyes and were reflected back in Blackwell’s. A silent conversation she could only begin to decipher.
    “Welcome to the family,” Blackwell said.
    “Don’t frighten her off,” Malcolm murmured.
    Blackwell grinned. “Miss Saint-Vallier looks to be made of sterner stuff than that.”
    “I like him,” Suzanne said when Blackwell had moved off.
    “Yes, Geoff ’s one of the more agreeable members of my family.” Malcolm glanced at the clock on the overmantel. “Almost time for us to disappear into the garden.”
    “And give everyone more cause to gossip.” Suzanne gave her fiancé a bright smile. “What a pity we’ll miss it.”
     
     
    The cloaked figure stopped a dozen paces from Malcolm in the shadows of the garden. He was of average height. Any other details were concealed by the voluminous folds of the cloak. “You aren’t Linford.” He