Improperly Wed (13 page)

Uncle Hugh glowered. “I'm sure the stories in the press were planted by the Granvilles. Well, they might have gained the initial upper hand in the media, but we'll win the war.”

Belinda felt her heart squeeze. Had Colin retaliated in the press, making sure he fired the first salvo in a divorce battle?

Uncle Hugh rubbed his hands together. “We'll hire the best lawyers to contest Colin's sale. We'll claim he violated your postnuptial agreement. We'll request that you be granted all of the original Wentworth property in a divorce. When the property is back under my stewardship, I'll see to it that the Granvilles aren't allowed to touch it again.”

“No.”

The word caught her by surprise almost as much as it did her uncle and her mother. Everyone stopped.

“No?” Uncle Hugh asked, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean, no?”

Belinda took a deep breath. “I mean I'll never give up control of the Wentworth estates.”

Uncle Hugh relaxed. “Well, of course not, dear girl. Isn't that what we're trying to arrange, with any luck, and the help of a few good solicitors?”

Belinda suddenly saw things with a clarity that had hitherto eluded her.

Belinda knew in her heart that her uncle would simply start selling or mortgaging the properties to the hilt if he
had control. Uncle Hugh was not competent to manage the Wentworth estates.

In a way, Belinda realized, Colin had done her and the Wentworths an immense favor. If Uncle Hugh hadn't unwittingly found an eager buyer in Colin, he may have stripped the properties to the point of default and foreclosure. And then the Wentworths would certainly have fallen out of favor with the upper crust. They would have stopped receiving party invitations and gotten the cold shoulder in certain quarters.

Her family had been keen for her to marry Tod, and she'd assumed they'd simply wanted her to make a good match. She hadn't been aware of how desperate they had been for her to save the family fortunes.

There was a big difference, she thought, between making it known that you were expected to marry up, and being sacrificed to save the family from financial ruin—again and again.

She loved her family, but they were human and flawed—very flawed.

What was it that Colin had said? She had a choice between being a stick-in-the-mud or a free agent.

Her uncle continued to look uncomprehending. “Of course, you'll have a property manager in me, or Tod when you marry him.”

“No, Uncle Hugh,” she said firmly. “Tod is out of the picture—for good. What's more, if and when I divorce Colin and have control of the Wentworth property again, we'll do things my way.”

What a novel thought—her way.

Her mother looked quizzical. “Belinda, this is absurd.”

“No, it's not,” she responded and then stood to leave. “I think it's the best idea I've had in a long time. In fact, I'm rather looking forward to becoming a real-estate mogul.”

Her husband had taught her a lot. And one of those things was that she had more power than she thought she had.

She had just asserted her power with her family. Now she had to decide what to do with respect to Colin.

She'd been unfair to him, she realized. He should have told her about the Elmer Street property, but with new insight, she understood why he had acted as he had with respect to the disposal of the building.

The only question was, how would she mend fences with him, and would he want her back after she had seemed to side with Uncle Hugh?

“M
other, what have you done?”

“Never fear, dear. It's all about the media these days.”

“Believe it or not,” he said patiently, “I'm one of those relics who still believes in a reality apart from public perception.”

“Nonsense. What an antiquated idea.”

The irony, of course, Colin thought, was that
he
had brought the Granvilles into a new millennium, shoring up the family wealth through shrewd real-estate holdings.

They were sitting at lunch in a room with French doors that offered a panoramic view of the gardens of Halstead Hall. At one time, the room had functioned as the music room, but these days it served as the family's informal dining room.

He'd been informed by a member of the staff shortly before lunch that his mother had arrived and would be joining him for the meal. As usual, his mother had presented herself impeccably groomed, pearls in place.

He, meanwhile, felt uncharacteristically scraggly and under the weather. He hadn't shaved that morning, and though he wore his usual work-at-home attire of trousers and open-collar shirt, he felt unkempt.

He knew the cause of his mood, however. She had left two days ago.

His mother took a sip of her tea. “You know, you really could take a cue from your friend Melton. He's a media person, isn't he?”

Colin wondered sardonically if his mother included following Sawyer as an example in the marriage department. After all, Tamara, the earl's wife, was a maverick American by upbringing, though her father was a British viscount. On top of it all, she remained one of Belinda's closest friends.

“Melton will be hurt to discover that you didn't use one of his media outlets as your mouthpiece for a public statement,” Colin drawled. “I will assure him, however, not to take the matter personally.”

The dowager marchioness waved a hand dismissively. “I still begrudge that horrid columnist of his, Mrs. Hollings. How dare she perpetuate the story of your appearance at the Wentworth-Dillingham nuptials?”

“How nice of you to retaliate by
not
feeding her salacious gossip about Belinda.”

“It's the least I could do,” his mother sniffed. “And I don't understand what you're upset about. What did I say that wasn't true? Belinda left you after you bought some burdensome property and thus gave much-needed financial assistance to the Wentworths.”

“I'm not sure Belinda would characterize matters in quite that way.”

The marchioness raised her eyebrows. “Precisely my point.”

In the two days since Belinda had left Halstead Hall, he'd had time to reflect and, frankly, brood. It had been hell and he'd been unable to work.

He'd started to think that Belinda had a point. He'd been so fixated on the bottom line that he'd somehow failed to appreciate how much Belinda cared about other things. Of course, family, history and sentiment were important to her. She was, after all, a lover of impressionist art, the epitome of nineteenth-century romance.

His mother sat up straighter. “We need to move quickly and gain the upper hand so that the press and public opinion are on our side. I'm only thinking of your reputation.”

“My reputation doesn't need saving.”

He
needed saving. He needed Belinda to save his cerebral and mercenary gambler's soul.

Because he loved her.

The realization hit like a sledgehammer. He was flummoxed, right before exploding joy and worry hit.

It was a hell of a moment to have an epiphany, considering his mother was in the room. But there was no other explanation for the way he'd been feeling since Belinda had departed.

His mother looked at him consideringly. “Colin, you could have your pick of brides.”

“Yes, and how could I forget that the story you planted in the press also listed the names of one or two women.”

His mother's eyes gleamed. “Suitable ones. As I said, you could have your pick.”

“But I want just one,” he replied. “I can't believe you'd turn your back on Belinda so easily. The rest of the family has warmed to her.”

“She's still a Wentworth.”

“It's past time to bury the hatchet. The hostilities have lasted longer than the War of the Roses.”

“Of course, the hostilities are over,” his mother replied, frowning. “You have won. The Wentworths are in your debt.”

“Have I won?” he asked softly.

His mother closed her eyes.

“Accustom yourself to the idea, Mother. Belinda is the Marchioness of Easterbridge, and if she'll have me, she'll remain so.”

He knew with a sudden clear insight that, without Belinda, his seeming victory over the Wentworths would be hollow.

 

As Belinda opened the apartment door, her mouth dropped. “How did you find me?”

Colin's mouth lifted sardonically. “A little birdie told me.”

“Sawyer,” she guessed.

Colin inclined his head. “It is his flat, after all.”

“I detest the way you blue bloods band together.”

“And right now,” he guessed, “you especially detest me.”

She let her silence speak for itself. Of course, she was furious and hurt. Why shouldn't she be? She'd been falling for him while he'd been toying with her.

How could she castigate Uncle Hugh for his bad judgments, she thought, when she'd made worse decisions?

And yet, she found herself drinking in the sight of Colin. His hair was mussed, when it ordinarily looked smooth, and his jaw was shadowed, when he was normally groomed.

“May I come in?” he asked, his manner steady.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Sawyer has graciously lent me his apartment, too, while I'm in London.”

“How kind of him.” She lifted her chin. “One wonders at the need for it, considering just how many properties you have acquired lately.”

“The Mayfair town house is rented out.”

“Oh, yes, how can I forget? Your act of noblesse oblige. Uncle Hugh sends his regards.”

Colin bit off a helpless laugh. “I suppose I deserve that.”

“Surely your mother and sister would offer you a sofa to sleep on in London.”

“Perhaps Sawyer thought my home was here with you.”

Belinda felt suddenly flush with emotion.

“With so many properties at your disposal?” she forced herself to scoff.

Colin looked at her steadily. “As a matter of fact, those properties are the reason I'm here.”

She tensed. “I thought you would have let your attorney do the talking.”

He grimaced. “Do we have to have this discussion on the doorstep?”

Reluctantly, she moved out of the way.

He stepped inside and removed his overcoat. It was an overcast day, typical of London but not rainy—yet. Under his coat, he wore a white open-collar shirt over dark trousers.

Belinda was glad she was presentable herself, though she'd had to use cucumber patches for her puffy eyes this morning. She had, however, showered and dressed. She'd donned a blue belted shirtdress, tights and flats shortly before Colin's arrival.

After Colin folded his coat and placed it on a nearby chair, she turned and walked farther into the flat, leaving him to follow her.

She stopped in the parlor and turned back to face him.

Despite appearing a bit careworn, he was still imposing—tall, broad and ruthless. And yet she remembered his achingly soft caresses and his whispered words of promise.

Like a bad angel, she thought with a twist of the heart.

“The Elmer Street property is not being sold,” he announced.

She blinked.

It had not been the announcement that she'd expected from him. She had thought he was here to negotiate with her about their future.

“I thought it was a done deal,” she finally said.

“The sale was in contract, but the parties had yet to sign.”

“Oh.” She paused. “What made you change your mind?”

He searched her eyes. “I decided it would be better to sell the property to you—”

She frowned.

“—for one pound sterling. Have you got it in your purse?”

Her heart skittered. “Is this some attempt to modify our postnuptial agreement?”

“Yes, for forever.”

Her eyes went wide.

Colin stepped toward her, and she caught her breath.

He acted like his usual commanding self, but his face told a different story. It spoke of stark need and naked emotion.

“What are the terms?” she asked with a catch in her voice.

“Name them.” He searched her face. “In fact, my plan is to sign over all the Wentworth property to you today for
a nominal amount…and for accepting me back, if you'll have me.”

Belinda felt emotion clog her throat. Still, she managed to say, “Of course, you would never be caught without a plan.”

Colin lifted his mouth in an uneven grin. “A gambler always has a strategy, and I believe this is one of my better ones.”

“Oh?” she asked, matching his tone. “Then far be it for me to stand in the way of its execution.”

“Excellent.” He went down on bended knee and took hold of her hand. “Belinda, would you do me the great honor of remaining my wife?”

She blinked back tears. “Even better.”

“I love you passionately.”

“Best. Definitely the best plan you've ever had.” She smoothed away an errant tear. “I love you, too, so I suppose there's nothing for it but to remain married to you.”

It was hard to say who moved first, but in the next moment, they were in each others' arms and kissing passionately.

It was a long moment before they came up for air.

“You know we'll scandalize both our families by staying married to each other,” she remarked.

“Who cares? We withstood their attempts to pull us apart.”

She nodded. “It's the awful interfamily feud.”

Colin smiled, his eyes twinkling. “We're putting it to rest. In fact, I suggest we make love not war right now.”

“We're in Sawyer's flat.”

Colin looked around them. “Looks good to me. Can you think of something better to do on a wet and overcast day?”

“Colin…”

Belinda laughed as he tugged her down with him to the deep rug before the fireplace, pulling a blanket off the sofa as he did so.

It wasn't long before the weather was forgotten for more interesting pursuits…?.

 

Later, Belinda snuggled with Colin on the sofa, watching the rain beat against the windows of Sawyer's London flat.

Colin cleared his throat. “I let revenge take over for three years. It was convenient not to look beyond that overruling motivation.”

“Because I walked away.” She said the words without rancor, as merely a statement of fact.

Colin lifted the corner of his mouth. “You didn't just walk. You ran.”

“What?” she joked. “In three-inch platform heels and a red sequin minidress?”

“The minute I saw you, I wanted to strip you out of them.”

She gazed at him through her lashes. “And you did.”

“You couldn't have chosen a better seduction ensemble if you had tried,” Colin teased. “What were you thinking?”

Belinda heated. “I was thinking that I was in Vegas and I was going to have a good time.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding with understanding. “You were already starting to do things your way without knowing it.”

“And maybe, just maybe, when I saw you, I made sure to stay put until you spotted me in the hotel.”

“Ah.” Colin nodded with satisfaction. “Finally, a confession. Here's mine—I knew you were staying at the Bellagio.”

Belinda's eyes widened. “No doubt your ego was in full bloom.”

He placed her hand on his chest. “But my heart shriveled on the vine for the next three years.”

She turned her head to look up at him. “Did you ever discover how our annulment was never finalized in Nevada?”

“The biggest confession of all,” Colin admitted. “I did not authorize my attorney to file the annulment papers.”

Belinda gasped and then laughed in disbelief. “I always suspected as much!”

“I tried to find every which way to get you back. I even pursued the end of the Wentworth-Granville feud in order to get you back. Why do you think I became a collector of impressionist art?”

Belinda's eyes shone. “Me?”

Colin nodded.

Belinda swallowed against the well of emotion. “Oh, Colin, how sweet and romantic.”

He brushed her lips with his.

“I'm sorry for running out on you in Vegas.” When he made to speak, she pressed a finger to his lips. “In the morning, I was afraid of the floodgates that you opened in me, and I didn't know how to deal with the situation. You were willing to take risks that I wasn't. You were more than I expected, and more than I could handle at the time.”

When she lowered her hand, he stole another quick kiss.

“You handled me fine.” His eyes glinted. “And I'd say you took a big risk by eloping with me. You just needed me to get used to jumping into the deep end once in a while in your life.”

She laughed. “I'm sure you'll give me plenty more chances to do it.”

“I was a lord who was missing his heart, and didn't know it.”

“The majority of Wentworths would agree that you were heartless,” she allowed.

“Only because you'd stolen my heart.” He looked deeply into her eyes. “And you absconded to New York with it.”

Belinda's lips twitched. “Uncle Hugh would claim you're the thief who stole the Wentworth family patrimony—the London town house, the Berkshire country estate…”

“But what you didn't understand is that you always had the more valuable property in your possession, and I was just trying to get my heart back.”

“You took the family jewel, the Berkshire estate.”