Still in My Heart by Kathryn Smith Read Free Book Online Page A

blissfully ignorant as he chatted up several other guests.
     
     
If Lydia had any hopes of renewing their "acquaintance," she was bound to be disappointed. She was a pretty enough woman, but Brahm didn't find her the least bit attractive. Perhaps it was the fact that he knew he could have her if he wished, or perhaps it was because she reminded him very much of a predator in search of her next meal.
     
     
It hadn't occurred to him at the time, but now that his mind was clear as he looked at her, Brahm was certain that she had wanted him only because he had wanted Eleanor. And if this party really was a flimsily veiled husband hunt for Eleanor— despite the presence of other unmarried ladies— then Lydia was bound to suspect that he had tossed his hat into the ring. That would no doubt make him— and any other man at the party— very attractive indeed.
     
     
The footman came along with the wine, and Brahm allowed him to fill his glass. The claret was no doubt fine, but it would go to waste regardless. But people were more apt to notice an empty glass than a full one, and he had no desire to explain to this bunch that he could not trust himself to ingest even a sip. Fortunately, wine didn't pose the same temptation that other libations did, and therefore presented less danger within his reach.
     
     
"Bring me a glass of water, would you?" he asked the footman. The servant nodded and turned to the sideboard to fulfill his request.
     
     
"Lord Creed," a soft voice from down the table spoke. "It seems an age since we last met."
     
     
He met Lydia's gaze directly. What game was she playing? "It has been several years, Lady Brend."
     
     
"You look well." Her tone was like a warning bell that echoed in his head. Brahm never claimed to be a rake, or any kind of expert when it came to women, but he knew blatant flattery— sexual sycophancy— when he heard it.
     
     
"He's unmarried," Lord Brend replied jovially. "Of course he looks well!"
     
     
The remark drew laughter from several guests. Lydia smiled coyly, but her attention never left Brahm. "Unmarried. We all know what a close call that was, do we not, Lord Creed?"
     
     
Was that Arabella or Muriel who gasped ever so softly at her sister's obvious reference to Eleanor jilting him? But perhaps he simply imagined it because the other Durbane sisters soon met the remark with musical laughter.
     
     
"Oh, Lydia," Phoebe tittered. "You really are too droll." There was a tightness to her smile that didn't quite manage to hide her true feelings. She did not approve of Lydia's remark. Brahm didn't either, even though Lydia had done him a great service by making the joke— as had Phoebe by joining in. They were presenting the illusion to the rest of the guests that whatever discord there had once been between him and Eleanor was gone now. In other words, there was no gossip to be found in his being there.
     
     
"Indeed," he added, joining the ruse even though it left a bad taste in his mouth. "Especially since I am certain that everyone here knows that Lady Eleanor was truly the lucky one."
     
     
He was only saying what no doubt everyone else was thinking, but Arabella flashed him a grateful glance anyway. Regardless of Eleanor's motives for crying off, for refusing to marry him only hours after giving her consent, society never looked pleasingly upon a jilt. If Brahm wanted, he could have made some very disparaging remarks against Eleanor— years ago as well as now— but to what end? He hadn't deserved her when she was his for the having, proving, if to no one other than himself, that Eleanor had been the one in the right after all.
     
     
Lydia continued to watch him with that rapacious gaze. Could no one else see it? Or did no one else care? She looked so much like Eleanor, but not even half as lovely. Eleanor might have had the look of an angry woman when she gazed at him, but Lydia looked bitter. While Eleanor had a cool elegance, Lydia was simply