The Perfect Bride by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online

mussed and she looked as if she’d been in bed with someone—with him. “No,” he managed harshly. Why would she think that?
    She was pale and stricken, apparently taking her cue from him. “I’m sorry, my lord,” she began.
    â€œYou have no reason to apologize. The lapse of judgment—and good manners—was mine.” And he began to despise himself. What had he been thinking, to dally in the middle of the day in his study? Oh, yes, of course, he had wanted to forget about Stephen. Well, that had certainly been achieved. Could this day possibly get any worse? And what should he do—and say—the next time he encountered Lady Harrington?
    God, it would be the most awkward possible moment. He could not think of an encounter he wished to avoid as much. Perhaps, if he were fortunate, he could disappear off the face of the earth.
    Anne had risen and was now gathering up the papers strewn about the floor. He saw, but couldn’t really comprehend, what she was doing. He was never going to recover from this crisis, he thought. Because even though he was no one in comparison to such a great lady, he had always been the perfect gentleman around her—in the guarded hope of at least garnering her respect. Well, he had earned her utter reprobation instead.
    And eventually, he had to leave Land’s End. In fact, he was due in town in May. And he wasn’t foolish enough to think that by then, she would have forgotten his little tryst.
    But why had she been at Land’s End?
    And was there any possible way to excuse his behavior, explain it, so she might not find him so entirely loathsome?
    Beyond shame, Rex reached for his crutch and stood. The moment he did so, he saw the large black Harrington coach in his courtyard. Disbelief began.
    She was still at Bodenick.
    He was breathless once again.
    He swung rapidly to the window and saw her standing by her coachman and a maid. Her back was to the window and a conversation seemed to be in progress. He stared. Her carriage was always terribly correct, but her shoulders seemed even higher than usual, her bearing stiff and set. She was distressed—as she should be.
    He fought the urge to hide until she left—the battle was over before it began. If she remained in his drive, he had to go outside and greet her and learn what brought her so far south. But he was amazed that she hadn’t climbed in her carriage and driven off at a mad gallop. Whatever her reason for appearing at Land’s End, it had to be important.
    He cursed. There was no avoiding her now. An apology was in order, and there was no way around it. Except, such an apology would only bring forward even more awkwardness—and for him, humiliation. But if he did not apologize, it was even worse. And damn it, there was no graceful way to tender his regrets.
    He wished he had offended anyone else, anyone other than Blanche Harrington.
    He looked down at his bare chest. “Anne, please retrieve a shirt and jacket for me—quickly.” And now he wondered how long she had been standing there—and how much had she seen.
    Instantly, he chastised himself. Blanche Harrington was not a depraved voyeur. She could not have been standing there for more than an instant. Unfortunately, she had chosen the exact instant when his passion had been at its greatest. His cheeks flamed.
    Anne laid his papers on the desk and fled the study to do as he had asked.
    He continued to stare out of the window, deciding he must not dwell on what she had seen. He must not dwell on his shame. Instead, he must discover an apology that might, at least, smooth the waters somewhat. Oddly, not a single word came to mind.
    Blanche suddenly turned and looked at the house.
    Rex jumped away from the window, realizing that he now cowered behind the draperies, out of her sight. From depravity to cowardice, he thought grimly, and neither one would do. There was no damned way out of his