Wedding of the Season by Laura Lee Guhrke Read Free Book Online

them, I must say. But really, Trix, since it’s of daring that we’re talking, isn’t coming here without a chaperone carrying things a bit too far? I know I’ve been away from England a long while, but I’m sure calling upon an unmarried gentleman is still against the rules in civilized society.” His hand tightened around his glass. “You’re not married yet, you know.”
    She made a sound of impatience. “Don’t be ridiculous, Will. We’ve known each other for donkey’s years. A chaperone is hardly necessary.”
    “Hmm, I wonder if that’s how Trathen would see it. Does he know you’re here?”
    “Leave Aidan out of this.”
    “That would be the gentlemanly thing to do,” he said amiably. “Lucky for me, I’ve been living amongst uncivilized heathens so long, I’ve forgotten how to be a gentleman.”
    “You never knew how.”
    He ignored that. “What would Trathen think if he heard you’d come to see me? What if he knew that scarcely two hours after I arrived, you came running over, alone, to welcome me home?”
    “Welcoming you is the last thing on my mind. And as galling as it is to be reminded of how I used to moon over you and follow you everywhere—”
    “Not everywhere,” he cut in incisively. “Please, Beatrix, do be accurate about these things.”
    “Those days are long past. I haven’t the least interest in running after you now.”
    “Ah.” He settled himself more comfortably in his chair and pasted an expectant look on his face. “You’re not concerned about me, and you’re not here to welcome me, so you must have come to apologize.”
    “Apologize?” she cried. “What reason have I to apologize?”
    “I’ll accept it, of course,” he added. “And I’ll be jolly civil about it, too, just to demonstrate that a lifetime of the breeding you so highly value didn’t go to waste—”
    “If anyone should apologize, it’s you. I’m here,” she added before he could attempt to debate the issue, “because I want to know the real reason you’ve come home. Is it because of my wedding?”
    “I thought you said I wasn’t invited.”
    “You’re not. But if you were determined to make a scene in front of over five hundred people, I hardly think lack of an invitation would stop you.”
    He grinned at that and raised his glass. “True enough,” he said, and took another drink. “But now that I’m home, excluding me from the guest list will raise more eyebrows than inviting me would, don’t you think? The Dukes of Sunderland are invited to every social event in Devonshire. Deuced impolite of you not to invite me to your wedding. Besides, wouldn’t having me there be the best way of proving to everyone that you don’t care tuppence for me anymore?”
    “I don’t need to prove that. Everyone already knows—”
    “That you’re still holding a torch for me?”
    She smiled sweetly. “Only if I can use it to burn you alive.”
    He glanced down, memory enabling him to see beneath those full, brown velveteen trousers to the generous curves beneath. “As I recall,” he murmured, lifting his gaze to her face, “you and I never needed any torches to burn for each other.”
    He had the satisfaction of watching her smile fade, but other than that, she gave him no reaction but a disdainful stare. “Your memory is flawed.”
    “Is it?” He stood up, sucking in a deep breath at the pain in his knee, and began walking toward her. “I don’t think so.”
    As he closed the short distance between them, he caught the fragrance of her, and a memory flashed across his mind—their engagement cotillion, a dark corner of the garden, and kissing gardenia-scented skin. Amazing how the scent and sight of her could bring it all flooding back as if six damned years had never gone by. Arousal stirred within his body, and pain, too, and both made him angry, with her and with himself.
    “My memory is functioning perfectly,” he murmured, leaning closer, close enough that when he spoke