The Stolen Bride by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online Page A

all evening, and he was very handsome, too, in his dinner clothes. At first, it had been so hard to smile and laugh and pretend that nothing was wrong when she was still so uneasy. Eleanor didn’t care for the taste of wine and more importantly, its effect on her mind, but tonight she’d had not one but two entire glasses of red wine. Miraculously, it had calmed her down.
    She had instantly enjoyed Peter’s every single word and had been laughing for most of the night. She hadn’t realized how amusing he was. And she wondered why she had never realized how extremely handsome he was, too.
    Those ridiculous, marriage-mad debutantes with whom she’d had to spend so much time during her two Seasons would think that Peter was more than a premier catch—he was the catch of all time. Why hadn’t she invited Lady Margaret Howard and Lady Jane Nettles to her wedding? They would be green with envy. Pea-green with envy, in fact. She had heard their husbands were fat .
    If it wouldn’t be remarked upon, she would have another glass of wine, never mind that supper was over. Then she would simply float through the rest of the evening.
    Peter murmured, so no one else might hear, “Are you all right?”
    She smiled at him. “It has been a lovely evening.”
    His brows arched in mild surprise. “Every evening is lovely if I share it with you.”
    She felt herself melt, oh so pleasantly. Had she really been in doubt of their union? “You are a romantic, Peter.” She laughed, playfully poking his arm.
    He started. “I have always been a romantic when around you.”
    She fluttered her lashes at him. How fortunate could one get? Why had she been so upset earlier? She could not quite recall.
    The countess was seated at the foot of the table. Lord Henredon, Peter’s father on her right. Mary said softly, “Darling? We are all waiting.”
    The earl cleared his throat, his gaze going from his daughter back to the table of expectant faces. “I cannot begin to say how pleased I am that my dear, beautiful daughter has finally decided to marry. I am even more pleased that she is marrying young Sinclair. Obviously her change of heart required the right man. I donot think I have ever seen her happier. To the bride and groom. May your future be filled with love, peace, joy and laughter.” He raised his glass.
    Eleanor smiled at her father, not able to decipher what he was talking about, and she looked at Peter, who was looking at her as if she were a goddess from Mount Olympus. His eyes were shining. Or was her vision dancing? Maybe Tyrell was right. Maybe this man was in love with her and she would one day find herself in love with him. Eleanor smiled at Peter. Maybe she was falling in love, then and there. Maybe she was already in love. Hadn’t she agreed to marry him because he was the right man for her?
    Her father had said something about a change of heart. She frowned. How could her heart change? She had found the right man, obviously—although he did not have gray eyes.
    She felt confused. Peter’s eyes were blue, not gray. Maybe she needed more wine. If she were not already in love, another glass would certainly do the trick.
    “I would also like to thank Lord and Lady Henredon for their aid in planning this monumental wedding, and I want to thank all of our guests for being here. I especially want to thank Mr. and Mrs. McBane, Lord and Lady Houghton, Lord and Lady Barton, for being here with us tonight, on this firstof hopefully many more joyous family occasions. And finally, I want to thank young Sinclair. Peter, thank you for making my daughter so happy.” He sat down, glancing at Eleanor again with a fond smile.
    “I should like to second that toast and add one of my own,” Tyrell said, smiling as he stood. “To the man who dares to marry my sister. Keep her happy or you will have to account to all five of her brothers,” he said.
    Sinclair smiled. “I will live to keep Eleanor happy,” he said gallantly. Then he