The Perfect Bride by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online Page B

inconvenience me,” he said as firmly. “You must not apologize. Of course you should have come inside to sit by the fire.” His mind raced. Should he play along with her as if he hadn’t seen her watching him make love to Anne? It would be easier for them both, he thought grimly. They could casually converse, the kind of idle chatter he despised, until she went on her way.
    His heart lurched with even more dread. They had conversed briefly no more than five or six times in as many years, and suddenly she was at his home in Cornwall. He despaired. He had never wanted her to see him as he truly was, and he wanted absolution, although he knew he would not ever gain it. But some noble part of him couldn’t allow her to leave until she knew how sincerely he regretted his immoral behavior.
    He inhaled. “Please, Lady Harrington, accept my most profound and sincere apologies—”
    She cut him off, which was shockingly rude. “The fault is mine, to call so precipitously!” she cried breathlessly.
    Aware of turning red, and in disbelief, he said, “Please accept my apologies…for not having seen your coach in the drive…and for failing to greet you properly…or having a servant at your disposal.”
    The fluttering smile vanished and she stared. He somehow stared back. Although disguised, he had tendered his terrible regrets and she knew it, but would never admit it openly. He desperately waited for her response.
    She smiled oddly. “If you must apologize for…not remarking my coach, then I must accept that apology! However, I realize you are not prepared for company. I am not…distressed…that a servant failed to usher us inside. I am so used to the ton, or my group, anyway—we call at whim, without our cards…we are such a close circle of friends!” She laughed, and he realized he had never heard such a forced sound. “I simply forgot the country is so different!”
    He could not decide how deeply she condemned him—and he could only be relieved that she would act so gracefully now. Her behavior was generous, but then, that was the kind of lady she was. She wouldn’t stare coldly or sneer. She would not go home and gossip, either. Of that, he had not a doubt.
    â€œIt is so cold in Cornwall!” Her words jerked him to attention. And she smiled, shivering. “We will be on our way. Clarence needs to water the team, however, if you do not mind.”
    He breathed hard, relieved that the terrible subject was over. “Of course you may water the horses,” he said.
    He turned away to hail his own grooms to aid her servants. He felt her gaze on him as he did so, and his tension escalated impossibly. But an insincere round of graceful apologies was not going to mitigate any awkwardness. Surely he was now the object of her scorn.
    He felt as if the irony might kill him. He had always wished to impress her with his manner, secretly wanting her to admire him in some small way, and instead, he had allowed her to glimpse his true nature.
    When the team was being led to the stables, he returned to find her standing silently with her maid. Before she noticed him, he noted her grim, even glum, and very strained demeanor. And now, he noticed that the tip of her nose was red from the chill of the day.
    He took one last breath, watching her. Somehow they had weathered this crisis, even if only superficially. Somehow the waters had been smoothed over, even if beneath lay huge, frightening currents. And they were on speaking terms. But now what? He remained terribly embarrassed. So, clearly, did she. He had no right to invite her in for some refreshment, but she was chilled, and that is what a true gentleman would do. He was afraid she might refuse the offer—and that would be a rejection he deserved but dreaded. On the other hand, what if she became ill, and all because of his uncontrollable virility?
    He had never dreamed Blanche