Undressed (Undone by Love) (18 page)

“
Oui
, of course, madame. I’ll have every seamstress available put right to work.”

“This one,” Brenna blurted out, pointing to a bolt of dove-gray silk
. “For my wedding gown.”

Her mother shook her head
. “No, dear, not for your wedding gown. It’s much too simple, too solemn. The blue crepe is better suited.”

“Nay,” Brenna pressed
. “I like the gray silk. I will make at least one decision myself, as far as my wedding is concerned.”  A bleak gray, like her future.

The bell in the shop’s door sounded
. Brenna looked up as Lady Brandon, together with a silver-haired companion she remembered as Mrs. Appleton, headed their way.

“Good day, Lady Danville, Lady Margaret,” Mrs. Appleton said
. “Why, you must be here buying your trousseau. How positively delightful.”  She clapped her plump hands together.

“Good day, Mrs. Appleton, Lady Brandon.”  Her mother nodded
. Brenna tipped her head but said nothing.

“What a happy coincidence,” Mrs. Appleton chirped
. “Why, not a half hour past we ran into Lady Cowper, and she told us the news. Stunned I was, I tell you. Simply stunned. Not a match I would have predicted. I’m sure you’ve heard of his reputation, the rapscallion? Turned out of White’s, they say.” 

Lady Danville’s eyes narrowed, her mouth set in a hard line
. “Nothing more than the impetuosities of youth, I assure you, Dolly.”

“Hmph.”  Lady Brandon eyed Brenna severely
.

It took every ounce of Brenna’s fortitude not to squirm under such scrutiny, yet she managed to stand erect, her head held high
.

“Cat got your tongue, gel?” Lady Brandon asked
.

“Nay, Lady Brandon
. As ye can see, I’m still fully capable of speech.” 
Horrible woman
. “‘Tis a pleasure to see ye, as always.”

“Impertinent, as always,” Lady Brandon answered
. “Say what you will, Harriet, but everyone knows Colin Rosemoor’s troubles are far more serious than boyish mischief. I can’t say I’m at all surprised by the match. Seems fitting, indeed.”

Mrs. Appleton had the good grace to look uncomfortable
. “Still,” she offered, “Lord and Lady Rosemoor are lovely people, and Jane Rosemoor has always been a darling of the
ton
, has she not?”

“Indeed,” Brenna’s mother answered coldly.

“Anyway,” Mrs. Appleton continued breathlessly, “Colin Rosemoor is a wicked one, isn’t he? Never without a beautiful woman on his arm, and I’ve always wondered about his relationship with Lady Mandeville, even though she and the marquess
do
seem very much in love. Why, it’s even rumored that Mr. Rosemoor was seen at the opera recently with Mrs. Trumball-Watts.”

“That is no rumor,” Lady Brandon said
. “It’s the truth. I saw the pair with my very own eyes. Simply scandalous.”

“Well, perhaps our girl here can set him to rights, hmm?”  Mrs. Appleton chucked Brenna under the chin
. “Wanted your dowry, I suppose. All those debts to pay, Mr. Appleton says. Well, who could blame the young buck? At least he had the brains to choose sensibility over beauty when selecting a bride. I hear you’re smart as a whip, Lady Margaret. There are worse things, I say. Well, we must be on our way. We’ve much to do today, haven’t we, Lady Brandon?” 

“Indeed,” her companion answered
. “Best of luck, gel. You’ll need it.” 

“I thank ye for your kind felicitations,” Brenna ground out through gritted teeth, wishing the earth would open up beneath her slippers and swallow her whole
.

At last the women took their leave
. Brenna watched them make their way back through the bolts of cloth, not releasing her breath until the bell jangled in the door, signaling their exit. Only then did she chance a glance at her scarlet-faced mother.

“Why, I never!” Lady Danville huffed
. “I would expect such treatment from Lady Brandon, but Mrs. Appleton? Her own daughter is married to a wastrel—the most lascivious rake for miles about. Forced to live in Cheapside now, from what I hear. We’ll strike her off our invitation list, won’t we, Margaret? Serve her right, the old tabby.”  Her lips pursed, her mother returned her attention to the blue crepe.

Brenna dropped her gaze to the dusty floor
.
Her dowry
. Of course. That explained why Colin had come immediately to Danville House to face her father’s wrath instead of fleeing the district at once. He needed her dowry—not to mention her inheritance—to pay off his gambling debts. Why had she not thought of it before?

A heated flush climbed up her neck as she silently cursed her loose tongue
. She hadn’t thought twice about telling Jane the surprisingly large sum she’d seen listed as her dowry on the marriage contract. Had Jane repeated the sum to Colin? If so, Jane had no doubt meant well. Still...

She reached up to rub her temples, still smarting at Mrs. Winterbourne’s unkind words
. She was well aware she paled in comparison to the elegant young ladies who gathered in Lady Brandon’s drawing room; she needn’t the blunt reminders. Certainly her own appearance did not measure up to Lady Mandeville’s, she thought, calling to mind the woman’s golden hair, emerald-green eyes, and delicate features. Despite her small stature, Lady Mandeville appeared womanly, curved in all the right places. She glanced down at her own small bosom, fiddling with her pelisse as her mother finished her business with Madame Vioget.

Brenna reached one hand up to stifle a yawn while she waited
. She was tired, having lain awake last night till dawn, deciding whether or not to go through with the marriage. To do so would drastically alter the course she’d set for her life. To have such a decision thrust upon her in so short a time frightened her terribly. Still, only a coward would refuse to face the consequences of their behavior, no matter how unpleasant those consequences might be, and she was no coward. And perhaps the consequences wouldn’t be so unpleasant, after all. She enjoyed Colin’s company, she had reminded herself, and there was no denying that she desired him. The thought that she might have foolishly allowed herself to fall in love with him had even flitted uncomfortably across her mind. She’d dismissed the thought, refusing to acknowledge it. Instead, she’d tossed and turned in her bed for hours on end. As the first hazy light of dawn had cast an eerie glow on her bedchamber, she had at last made peace with her decision to remain. Only then had she been able to drift off into a restless sleep.

Looking back now, she realized that perhaps she’d made the wrong decision after all.

Chapter 16

Colin paced before the Danvilles’ pianoforte, trailing his fingertips along the smooth rosewood case while he waited for Brenna to join him. He had no idea what he’d say to her but felt they should speak privately before their wedding, which was now only days away. Perhaps seeing her would set his mind at ease. Even if it did not, it didn’t seem right that he should next see her standing beside him as they became man and wife. Damnation, it still didn’t signify.

Jane had claimed responsibility
. She hadn’t imagined that Brenna would actually take her ill-conceived advice and attempt to entrap him, she said. Yet he detected a gleam of triumph in her eyes whenever she spoke of it. Which, of course, only made him feel all the more manipulated. Had he been nothing but a pawn in an elaborate game of chess? It certainly felt that way. Yet, at the same time, he felt a sense of relief. Despite his chafing at the female maneuverings, he was glad to save Brenna from marrying Sinclair. Now she would not be misused at Sinclair’s hands. She would be safe under his protection, of that he would make certain.

He ceased his restless pacing, looking toward the empty doorway
. What was keeping her? It seemed he’d been waiting an interminable time, though in truth it couldn’t have been more than a quarter hour. He was impatient. Distracted. Scanning the room, his gaze fell upon the long sideboard against the far wall. A cut-glass decanter of brandy, nearly full, sat there on a silver tray. A pair of snifters sat invitingly beside the decanter. Damn, but he needed a drink. How many days had it been? He’d lost count. Hadn’t he proved himself no longer dependent upon it? What harm could come from indulging in just a taste, no more?

He crossed the room in several strides, pausing before the sideboard
. He could almost taste the smoky, rich liquid sliding down his parched throat.
Just a taste
, he reminded himself. Reaching for the stopper, he froze. Horrified, he withdrew his hand with a silent curse. What the hell had happened to his self-control? He’d only now reached the point where he didn’t crave the blasted stuff on an hourly basis. No good would come from indulging now. He rammed his hands into his pockets, turning his back on the decanter before he changed his mind.

A rustling sound in the doorway captured his attention, and he opened his eyes to find Brenna standing there, watching him
. Devil take it, but his heart began to race. In the silence, he allowed himself a moment to study her. She wore a frothy gown of pale blue, generously trimmed with girlish ribbons. In stark contrast, her hair was pulled back into a severe knot, without even a single softening curl to frame her face—a face that appeared drawn, pale, her eyes hollow.

“Mr. Rosemoor,” she murmured at last, offering him a slight curtsy. She did not meet his eyes, yet he could sense hers flashing angrily as she brushed past him and took a seat on the sofa.

“Rather formal today, aren’t we?” he drawled, moving to stand opposite her, leaning indolently against the windowsill
. “I rather think you might call me Colin. We
are
to be married soon, after all.”

“A fact I’m well aware of
. I’ve done naught but prepare for it for more than a sennight now.”  Her voice was cold, clipped.

What reasons could she have for her anger
? Hadn’t he played right into her hands? “I’d expect you to sound more pleased about it.”

“Would ye, now
? I canna for the life of me imagine why.”

“Your sharp tongue alone could wound a man, you know.”  He rapped on his chest
. “Straight through the heart.”

“Have ye a quip for every occasion, Colin?”

“I
do
try.”

“Aye, ye make light of everything
. Dinna ye realize how very serious this matter is? We’re to be joined in matrimony, in four days time. Till death do us part? Surely you’ve heard the phrase.”

“I’m quite aware of the gravity of the situation,” he snapped
. “You can rest assured that I won’t take our vows lightly.”

“Every vow
? Or simply the ones ye choose to honor?”

“What are you implying, Brenna
? That I’m not a man of my word? That I will abandon you, abuse you? Tell me, precisely which vow do you fear I might fail to keep?”

“All of them...none of them,” she corrected, shaking her head
. “I dinna ken what I mean.” 

He hadn’t thought it possible, but somehow her pale face became paler still
. He studied her countenance again, more closely this time. Dark shadows rimmed her eyes, eyes that practically knocked the air from his lungs with their look of desperation. He could no longer bear to look into their turbulent depths.

With a groan, Colin turned toward the window and leaned against the sill, his palms damp
. It was hard to remain angry at someone who was clearly in such a state of despair—a state brought on, of course, because she was forced to marry him against her will. Was she really so horrified by the prospect? The thought sent his mind reeling.

He closed his eyes and took several deep, calming breaths before opening them again to gaze out the window at the neat grounds of Danville House
. The garden appeared orderly, well manicured. Nothing like the rambling, wild gardens his mother preferred at Rosemoor House, and, on a larger scale, at Glenfield. He shivered as a breeze heavy with the sweet scent of honeysuckle rippled the drapes. With a sigh, he dropped his chin to his chest. However had he gotten himself into this?

His life was about to change—irrevocably—and he wasn’t in the least prepared for it
. Now evicted from his bachelor lodgings, he hadn’t anywhere to live with his bride save Rosemoor House, together with his family. Until his father chose to give him one, he had no country estate of his own, and he could not afford to lease one. He had nothing to offer her; nothing besides his name. And, of course, the betrothal ring he carried with him now. One hand moved to his pocket, his fingers tracing the outline of the velvet pouch that held a precious Rosemoor family heirloom, one he’d chosen especially for Brenna.

Would she accept the token with pleasure
? Or would she slip it on her finger with reluctance? He was almost afraid to find out. With a silent curse, Colin pressed his forehead against the glass, cool against his burning skin. Bloody hell, what a mess. This was not the way in which he hoped to begin his married life. God help his foolish romanticism, but he’d imagined tender feelings, heartfelt declarations of love. Not this. Not tension, distrust. Anger.

He turned to Brenna, who sat where he’d left her, absently twisting a handkerchief on her lap
. He did not wish to be drawn into an argument with an obviously distraught and exhausted woman. “Come now, must we continue to snap at each other like this?” he asked, his tone light. “It isn’t helping the situation. You look unwell, you know. Perhaps you should go lie down.” 

Her eyes narrowed perceptibly before she spoke
. “I’m well enough.”

“I beg to differ
. If I might say so, you look exhausted. You’re not yourself today, besides. Not the Brenna I’ve come to know.”

“Perhaps ye dinna ken me as well as ye supposed,” she answered, glowering at him
.

“I know you well enough,” he said, his voice tight.

“I suppose knowing the size of my dowry would suffice.”

“Is that what you think?”  Something inside him snapped at the mention of her dowry—the dowry he’d given his word not to touch
. He’d been surprised to learn she had such a generous portion behind her, one which Lord Danville had insisted be put in trust. So that he couldn’t get his hands on it, of course, and risk losing it at the gaming tables. That stipulation had been humiliating at best, yet he’d accepted it without hesitation. No matter how pressed for funds he might become, he’d never take his wife’s money. “How can you sit there accusing
me
of being a fortune hunter, when you were the one who brought about this marriage?”

“However did I bring about this marriage
? By succumbing to your practiced seduction?”

“I don’t remember you offering the slightest resistance to my efforts.”

She rose to face him, her cheeks stained strawberry and her hands balled into angry fists by her sides. “How dare ye, Colin Rosemoor. ‘Tis bad enough ye treated me like...like a common harlot,” she sputtered. “Like your Mrs. Trumball-Watts. Aye, I’ve heard all about her, about your relationship with her.” 

Relationship
? Colin drew back in surprise. He’d escorted Mrs. Trumball-Watts home from the opera one night, at her request. Deposited her at her doorstep and taken his leave, nothing more. That single, unexceptional event summed up his entire so-called relationship with the woman. “Nothing but trumped-up lies and innuendo,” he protested. “You must believe I’ve nothing to do with her—”

“Nay, I dinna want to hear it.”  Her eyes darkened to a stormy hue, the color of roiling seas
. “But to suggest that I allowed ye to seduce me in order to bring about this...this
scandal
. Ye think I enjoy hearing the hushed gossip about me everywhere I go? Ye think I would bring this upon myself, simply for the pleasure of marrying ye?”

No
. Why would she?
To escape the horrible fate of marrying Sinclair
, his mind supplied. He was a lesser of two evils. Yet her anger seemed genuine, her indignation valid. Colin felt the blood pound in his temples. He no longer knew what to think. All he knew was that she stirred his blood, stoked his desire, even as she stood there glaring at him.

“Well?” Brenna asked, clasping her hands in front of herself
. “Have ye not anything more to say on the subject? Another quip, perhaps?”  He was silently watching her, an altogether strange look upon his features. She could almost swear she saw desire in his eyes. Did he think her clay in his hands, so easy to manipulate? A look, a touch, and she would bend to his wishes?

He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it decidedly more mussed than before
. “Yes, well. Actually, I did come here today with a purpose in mind.”  He reached into his pocket, rummaging around with a frown. Pulling out a black velvet pouch, he withdrew something from within, closing his fingers around it.

Brenna’s breath caught as he reached for her hand, then sank to one knee beside her
.

“I know we’ve had a...well, an unfortunate start to our betrothal
. Still, I’d hoped to do this properly.”  He held up a ring—an exquisite oval aquamarine set with diamonds—and smiled up at her uncertainly.

Despite her resolve to resist his charm, her heart soared at the sight of him kneeling before her, looking so very hopeful and vulnerable
. So devastatingly handsome.

“I very much hope you’ll do me the honor of becoming my wife, Brenna
. Though God knows I don’t deserve you.”

Brenna covered her mouth with one hand, temporarily rendered speechless
. Her gaze briefly met his questioning one, then slid back down to the ring he held out between his forefinger and thumb like an offering. It was exquisite, really. Far more beautiful than any jewel she’d ever owned. “Oh, Colin, ‘tis lovely.” 

He rose to stand before her
. “It was my great-grandmother Rosemoor’s. As soon as I saw it, I knew you must have it. The stone is exactly the same shade as your eyes.”  Again, he reached for her hand. “A perfect match to your beauty, your strength, your brilliancy. Will you have me, Brenna?”

His words touched her heart, brought a tear to her eye
. Still, she couldn’t help but notice he made no mention of love. Why did the omission bother her so? She was a sensible girl, a practical girl. Before coming to London, she’d never entertained the notion of marrying for love. Love was for silly, foolish girls, for those at leisure to fritter away their days, lost in lofty daydreams. Yet here she stood, her heart near to breaking for the lack of that very same emotion. Her desire for him was surely leading her down a path toward love, a journey on which she feared Colin would not join her.

Her heart raced at his words,
She sighed deeply, knowing there was naught she could do about it now. “Aye, Colin. I will have ye.” 

He nodded, then slipped the ring on her finger
. Brenna stared at it in amazement, a smile tipping the corners of her mouth. ‘Twas a perfect fit. “I think I may need my head examined, but I do accept ye willingly.”

“As do I,” Colin said at last, his expression solemn
.

“Accept yourself?” Brenna teased
. “And willingly, too?”

“Hmm, very amusing. I was striving to be serious, you know
. Now you see why I don’t often bother.”  He held her hand in his, examining the ring on her finger with a satisfied smile. “You’d never have accepted me under normal circumstances, would you?”

“Truly, Colin, there’s no telling what I might have done. Even I canna say for certain where ye are concerned.”

His eyes began to twinkle with mischief. “Do I really have that effect on you? Fascinating.”