Undressed (Undone by Love) (14 page)

He nodded stiffly
. “You’ll send word at once if you learn anything from Sinclair or Ballard?”

Was this the true meaning of his visit
? To remind her of her part in their bargain? “Of course,” she murmured, feeling foolish.

“Very well, Brenna
. I bid you good night, then.”

“Good night, Colin,” she said softly
.

In seconds, he disappeared into the darkness like a wisp of smoke
. She returned to her seat on the bench, her fingers skimming the rough stone as her heart continued to flutter wildly.

Hera leapt into her lap and began to knead her skirts
. Brenna sighed, stroking the cat’s back. “I suppose ye witnessed that scene, Hera? Well, ‘tis a good thing you canna speak. ‘Twill be our secret, won’t it? I’ve officially gone daft.”

Hera only meowed in reply
.

Why didn’t I tell him about the betrothal agreement?
she wondered, not even allowing herself to speak the words aloud.
Because he wouldn’t have kissed me, had I told him
. And she had wanted him to kiss her. Yearned for it. Despite her confusion about his character; despite her jealousy about his relationship with Lady Mandeville. What a muddle she’d gotten herself into.

“Well, Hera,” she said aloud, “’twill likely get worse before it gets better, won’t it?”

Chapter
12

“La, I heard the most remarkable
on-dit
today.”  Colin’s mother set down her cup, smiling broadly. She turned toward Jane, who sat beside her on the sofa sipping her own steaming cup of tea. “Perhaps you’ve had the news already, Jane dearest.”

Colin poured himself a snifter of brandy, swirling it around the glass and watching disinterestedly as Jane arched one brow, peering at their mother over the rim of her cup
.

“I haven’t heard any gossip of interest,” Jane said
. “Not lately, at least. Do tell.” 

“I only supposed you might have heard, as it regards your new friend, Lady Margaret Ballard.”

Brenna?
Colin’s flagging attention snapped into focus. Taking his brandy with him, he strode across the room, leaning against the pianoforte.

“Although,” his mother continued, “I don’t suppose there’s been sufficient time for the news to travel far
. Still—”

“Mama, please,” Jane chided
. “Do not keep us in suspense. You must tell us at once.”

“Well, I heard tell she’s betrothed,” she said at last, then pursed her lips thoughtfully
. “Hmmm, but I seem to have forgotten to whom. Wait.”  She held up one finger. “I remember now. It’s that odious Lord Thomas Sinclair, of all people,” she added.  

Colin froze, his snifter poised halfway to his mouth
.

“No!” Jane cried out, her teacup clattering to the saucer
.

“Yes, I had it from Lady Cowper, who had it from Lady Danville herself
. I was more than a little surprised. Isn’t Lord Thomas Sinclair the one who caused such a scene at the opera with Lucy the year of her come-out?”

A speechless Jane only nodded in agreement
.

“He is the worst sort of scoundrel, is he not
? Regardless, I heard that the betrothal agreement was signed just last night, before Lady Welbourne’s musicale.”

Last night
?
The agreement was signed last night—the same night that Brenna allowed him to hold her in his arms? The same night she all but begged him to kiss her? It didn’t signify. Colin’s chest felt suddenly tight; his throat constricted. He set his snifter on the pianoforte’s polished case, carefully measuring his words. “He is indeed a scoundrel. In fact, I’d favor several choice names for him, names I dare not repeat in the company of ladies.” 

“Curious, then, isn’t it?”  His mother shook her head, her lace cap flapping against her ears
. “It is not so surprising that Lord and Lady Danville would seek a hasty match, as Lady Margaret—or Brenna, as you call her, Jane—is a bit long in the tooth. Well past what one would consider a marriageable age. Still, she’s sufficiently attractive, if a little coarse, and I found her to be intelligent and positively charming. It would seem they could do better than accepting the first suit offered, especially when the gentleman in question is of dubious character. But I suppose if Lady Cowper had it from Lady Danville, it must be true.”

Colin turned toward the window, a fierce rage welling inside him
. He needed a drink, badly. Something far stronger than brandy. “If you’ll both excuse me, I have something I must attend to.” 

Jane rose abruptly to her feet
. “As do I. Perhaps Colin can drive me. Yes?”  She looked to him pleadingly.

He hesitated for a moment
. He wished to be alone with his thoughts, not stuck in his curricle with Jane, listening to her prattle on about Brenna’s so-called virtues. What sort of virtuous woman would kiss him the way Brenna did, allow him to touch her the way he had, when betrothed to another? The fact that she hadn’t mentioned her engagement made her actions seem all the more suspect. Devil take it, what was the girl about?

He looked up and saw Jane watching him closely, a puzzled look darkening her features
.

“I suppose I can drive you,” he said at last
.

“Must you both go?” their mother asked
. “Well, no matter. I’ll go pay a call on Lucy.”

“What a lovely idea, Mama
. Please tell her I’ll be around in time for tea. I’ve much to tell her.”

“Very well, dear
. Go on, then.”  She waved one hand toward the door. “It looks as if your brother might perish for waiting.”

Colin leaned across the sofa and planted a kiss on his mother’s warm, wrinkled cheek
. “I’ve much pressing business, Mother. It’s unlikely I’ll return for dinner.”  He’d be too far in his cups by then, if the rest of the day went as planned.

“A shame, for Cook has a lovely side of beef today.”

“Set some aside for my breakfast, then. I’m partial to cold beef.”

“Hmm, if you say so.”  She waved toward the doorway
. “Well, off with you, then.”

Jane had retrieved her bonnet and gloves and stood in the front hall, tying the ribbons beneath her chin as Colin crossed the marble tiles and reached for his hat and whip
.

“Need I ask where I’m driving you?” he asked as the butler pulled open the door and ushered them out
. “Danville House, I suppose?”  He handed Jane up into the curricle.

“Of course
. Poor Brenna. I can’t understand how this happened. What were her parents thinking? She must be terribly distraught.”

“Perhaps.”  He climbed into the conveyance beside her and took up the reins
. “Or perhaps you know her less well than you thought. She might very well be satisfied with the match. Sinclair is, after all, the son of a duke. Fifteen thousand pounds a year, I’m told.”

Jane shook her head
. “No. I simply cannot believe it. Come now, does she strike you as the type to accept an arranged marriage, especially one with a man such as Sinclair?”

No, she didn’t
. But then, he’d mistaken a woman’s character on more than one occasion. In fact, it would seem that misjudging women was his specialty. He sighed deeply, chafing at the injustice.

“Perhaps not,” he answered at last
. “Truly, I haven’t any idea. Just how well
do
you know her?”

A smile tipped the corners of Jane’s mouth
. “Quite well, I’d say. I’ve spent many pleasant hours in her company—shopping, taking tea, enjoying a turn in the park. She’s spoken often of returning to Castle Glenbroch come autumn. You should hear the longing in her voice when she speaks of home, Colin.”

“Then perhaps there’s your answer
. Perhaps her home is in need of funds.”

Jane shook her head, making the trimmings on her bonnet dance in the warm summer breeze
. “No, I do not think so. Glenbroch sounds quite prosperous. She said they’ve turned a nice profit these past few years. There is simply no logical explanation, other than Lord and Lady Danville having a serious lapse in judgment. I will get my answers soon enough, I suppose. No use in speculating.”

Colin reined in beside Danville House, his anger mounting as his thoughts returned to his last visit here
. Had Brenna played him for a fool? She must have, for he could think of no other explanation.

Scowling at his own stupidity, he leapt from the curricle, hurrying around to hand Jane down.

“Thank you, Colin.”  She took two steps toward the town house’s front steps, then turned to face him once more. “Might I ask just where you’re off to?”

“I’d rather you did not.”

“Just as I’d supposed.”  Her displeasure was evident.   “There’s no reason to earn the reputation you’ve been burdened with, you know,” she chastised.

“No? You’d deprive me of all enjoyment, then?”

“No, but surely you can find a more suitable way to spend your leisure time than by haunting seedy gaming hells and public houses.”

A red-hot, suffocating rage rose in his breast, constricting his windpipe and causing his heart to pound furiously against his ribs
. “Oh? Perhaps I should go to my club instead. Ah, but wait.”  He smacked one palm against his forehead. “That’s right, I’m no longer allowed inside those hallowed halls. They’ve revoked my membership—indefinitely, they claim. Well then, shall I pay court to some respectable young lady instead? I say, I just remembered—I’m no longer received in respectable drawing rooms, am I?”

“Colin, please—”

“Please what? Tell me, Jane. Tell me what possible means I have to occupy my time besides drinking myself into a stupor at some disreputable establishment.”

“Hush,” Jane hissed, reaching for his sleeve
. “This is neither the time nor the place for such an outburst.”

He wrenched himself from her grasp, his anger increasing
. “Isn’t it? I must say, I don’t give a bloody farthing what anyone thinks anymore. Besides, if I don’t provide sufficient fodder for the gossip mill, they’ll just make it up instead.”

Jane’s eyes flashed angrily
. “Just go, Colin. Go.”  She waved a hand in dismissal. “Do what you must. If you can drag yourself from your bed tomorrow, come by Rosemoor House and I’ll share what news I have from Brenna.”

“I’ll do that,” he muttered, suddenly feeling contrite
. He reached for Jane’s hand. “You
are
a gem, you know.”

Her frown gave way to a weak smile
. “As are you, Colin. You’ve only just forgotten it.”

He watched as she turned and strode confidently up the front walk, looking as elegant and regal as always
. As she rapped on the door, he leapt into the curricle and took up the reins, suddenly uncertain of where to go.

Bloody hell, as always Jane had cut right to the heart of the matter
. With a flick of the wrists, he flapped the reins across the horses’ backs, and they started off. But where to? Despite Jane’s cutting words, a part of him wished to head to Covent Garden, to some nameless establishment where he could get blissfully and mindlessly drunk on cheap gin. Yet another part wished to prove himself better, though the devil only knew why.

Mandeville House
. Yes, that’s where he would go. If Mandeville was absent, he could await him in his study and enjoy the marquess’s fine brandy, or, better yet, his smuggled whisky. Lucy would no doubt be busy entertaining his mother. Hadn’t she said she meant to call on Lucy? Still, just being in Lucy’s home brought him peace he could not find elsewhere. Perhaps there was something to be said for acceptance, after all.

And then perhaps he’d return to Rosemoor House for dinner, to the promised side of beef and to Jane’s news from Brenna
. An unexpected rush of hope surged through his veins, quickening his breath.
Let my mother’s information prove to be false
. The desperation sliced through his heart, nearly cleaving it in two.

Last night he’d lain awake in his bed till dawn, tossing and turning beneath twisted bedclothes as he’d recalled Brenna’s eager response to his kiss, his touch
. Just the memory alone of her fingers sliding beneath his shirt, raking across his bare torso, had been enough to force him to hastily and efficiently see to his own needs. Still, even after he’d found release, he hadn’t found sleep. Instead he’d continued to savor the memory of her kiss, of her breasts beneath his hands, beneath his mouth.

She was exquisite
. The thought that that bastard Sinclair might soon possess her made bile rise in his throat. Sinclair didn’t deserve her.

Not that he deserved her, either
. No, in his current state, he would only bring her sorrow and shame. She should be allowed to return to Scotland, to the home she loves, free to marry some brawny, bearded Scotsman in kilt and sporran. Someone who loves the Highlands as she does, who shares her passions and convictions. She deserved that, and no less.

He looked up from the street, surprised to see he had accomplished Mandeville House while lost in his thoughts
. Reining in the horses, he leaned back against the seat and took a deep, calming breath. As he did so, a movement caught his eye in the house’s front window and he squinted against the sun. It was Lucy, her golden hair unbound. She stood framed in the glass, her back toward the street. As he watched, a shadow moved in front of her, arms encircling her slender waist. Lucy’s head tipped back, her arms reaching up in an embrace. In seconds, Mandeville swept her off her feet and carried her away, out of Colin’s sight. In the middle of the afternoon, for God’s sake.

Couldn’t they cool their ardor, especially when standing in plain view of the street
? He shook his head, a decidedly foul mood descending upon him. Damn it all to hell.

His first instinct had been correct
. He needed a drink—a strong one. “To Covent Garden,” he said aloud, slapping the horses’ backs with the reins and setting off once again.

Toward further ruin, no doubt
.

***

“Like this?”  Brenna tucked a single delphinium behind one ear, then sat on the white wrought-iron chair Jane had placed beside the rose-covered trellis.