He's No Prince Charming (Ever After) (27 page)

The room remained silent as he took a rather large sip.

Shock stiffened the faces of the
ton
, freezing them into complete silence. A small smile slipped across his features.

“I think I could get used to having a beast for a son-in-law.”

M
erriment from the wedding reception trickled in through the entrance to the study, but Caroline Bradley paid it no heed. She didn’t hear anything other than the steady, growing thrum of her heart as icy hot anger surged through her veins.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before now?” she seethed, trying to keep her voice low so the guests only feet away wouldn’t hear. She uneasily adjusted her elbow-length gloves in an effort to control her reaction to the news. “I knew you were hiding something when you explained how you ended up in jail, but this…!”

The scarred, blond giant seated behind the behemoth desk that had once belonged to their father seemed to flounder. “I wanted to protect you, Caro.”

The woman massaged her temples. The weight of her long locks of golden hair, artfully piled atop her head, was starting to give her a headache. Why did everyone always think she needed protection? Her father had been a complete and utter ass—not that she’d
ever
say such a thing aloud—and, yes, he’d done things no father should even
contemplate
, but that didn’t make her some wilting flower. In fact, she thought, pulling on her glove again, her childhood had only made her stronger, not weaker.

And, by God, she lived with the St. Leons! That loving but eccentric family had more drama than any group of people she had ever met. If she could remain in the collective presence of those five siblings for more than ten minutes without losing her sanity, she could certainly manage unexpected and unpleasant family complications of her own.

Learning about an unknown fiancé was certainly not going to break her. She would not allow it. The very idea she’d collapse into a sniveling heap on the Persian rug was highly offensive. Stiffening her spine, she cleared her face of all expression and gathered her thoughts.

No, Lady Caroline Bradley would not crumple.

Caroline Bradley was going to
do
something about it.

“Marcus”—she sighed, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders—“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me so far—it’s more than I could ever hope to repay in this lifetime—however, I’m a grown woman. I am perfectly capable of handling something like this.”

Her brother sighed. “You’ve been through so much. I can’t—”

“And you haven’t?” she snapped.

“Caroline…”

Taking another deep breath to calm herself, erecting that perfect poise she’d become famous for over the years, she gestured to the door where voices trickled in. “Your happiness is waiting for you on the other side of that door. You’ve done more than enough for me by securing the necessary funds to break the betrothal contract. As I understand from what you’ve just told me, all that is left to end this unpleasant affair is to obtain the duke’s agreement and signature. Is that correct?”

“Yes. Hopefully, it will be a simple matter.”

“Well, then, I am asking you to allow me to handle it.”

“But—”

Caro held up a gloved hand. “No. Your bride is waiting for you, Marcus. I refuse to let you delay your wedding trip to search out the duke. The man hasn’t been around for years! I highly doubt he’ll reappear within the next five minutes.”

Jade eyes hardened a fraction, assessing, measuring. Caro steeled herself, straightening her shoulders and bracing her feet. He was obviously doubtful she could handle this, and she was determined to prove she could.

Even if she didn’t have the slightest idea how to go about it. Solicitors would be useless. The blasted man had disappeared shortly after murdering his father.

She swallowed and adjusted her gloves for courage.

The silent tension in the room was suddenly broken with a grunt. Marcus’s gaze softened and he leaned back in his chair. “If you insist…”

“I do. Very much so.”

A small grin slipped across his features, lessening his scars and making him seem much younger. “All right. I’ll leave Harwood’s signature to you. Frankly, it is very unlikely that anything will happen while Danni and I are out of touch, and if anything
does
, Llywelyn will handle it until I return.”

She sighed silently with frustration. Apparently, her friend’s eldest brother had been chosen to oversee her activities in Marcus’s absence. Honestly, how could her brother agree to let her obtain the required signature in one sentence, and in the next, appoint another man to “handle it” for her. Once again, Marcus had assigned her a protector. She bit her lip to control her unladylike response.

Pushing that aside, she decided to seize the opportunity presented—a chance to prove to her brother she didn’t need protection anymore. And once the Duke of Harwood signed the infernal papers and the money breaking her betrothal exchanged hands, she would finally be…

Free.

“Thank you, Marcus.” She straightened her posture again and settled a complacent smile across her features. This was, after all, a very happy day. Marcus had finally found someone to love him and share the rest of his life with him. After the horrors their father had inflicted on their lives, Marcus deserved every second of happiness he could muster.

“Shall we rejoin the reception?”

The tall man grimaced. “No matter what Danni says, public appearances and parties never get easier.”

Caro scoffed. “I don’t believe you. I think someone is using that as an excuse to stick improperly close to his bride.”

A devilish glint entered his eyes as he stood from the desk. “Possibly.”

Fighting the unladylike urge to roll her eyes, she followed the blond giant from the room.

It was times like these, when she stood next to her brother, that she was thankful for her height. She hated when someone looked down upon her, probably stemming from her father’s favorite form of intimidation. That she could look most men in the eye was a great comfort. It made her feel an equal, as if she had control over their encounters, and to a point, she did. She easily intimidated most men, which was why she was going to die an old maid.

Very happily.

The pair stood in the large threshold, observing the crowd who’d come from the morning ceremony to the Fleetwoods’ townhouse for a wedding breakfast. Marcus and Danni had tried to keep the event small, knowing full well how many gawkers were anxious to witness the Beast’s marriage. Only their closest friends and, because of the bride’s father’s political position, the most important government officials, were invited to attend. But the dining room was filled with well-wishers.

“I see the earl has arrived.” Caroline spotted the Earl of Hemsworth, Danielle’s recently jilted suitor.

“Would that he hadn’t,” grumbled Marcus, a hint of jealousy in his tone.

Caro hid a smile as she commented, “He seems content with how events were resolved.”

Marcus grunted, lifting his chin towards the small group of women surrounding the politically motivated man. “I bet he is. Seems women enjoy soothing his wounded heart in flocks.”

She bit back a laugh at the caustic tone. Caro had to agree. She could not particularly understand the attraction of the Ton’s Angel. He was rumored to be a kind and considerate man, but he seemed immensely boring.

“And how were some of the Foley-Foster sisters tempted to attend?” she asked as she shifted her gaze to the other side of the room. Four giggly, redheaded girls had their heads bowed, deep in conversation. Caro’s heart softened at the sight of the third eldest, Miss Ginny “the Ninny” Foley-Foster. The girl had made certain Marcus was extricated from the legal repercussions of his actions, even though she had no real reasons for doing so. Without her forgiveness and understanding, Caro’s idiot brother would still be in jail.

“According to Danni, Ginny threatened to marry the next person who offered and never come home again if the admiral didn’t let them attend.”

“Oh.” She laughed. “Is she as naive as they say?”

“Thick as a brick, but I will never be able to repay her kindness.”

The youngest of the family group, a girl of perhaps four years, suddenly turned, as if feeling their eyes on her. Her arms crossed angrily, and she stared unwavering at Marcus with what one could describe only as a “death” glare.

Marcus turned to view the wallpaper behind him, avoiding the child, and whispered in her ear, “But her sister there. I swear she will grow to be a murderess.”

Caroline smothered a highly inappropriate, surprised snort of laughter.

“Marcus, that’s terrible!”

He gave a one-shouldered shrug, his eyes resting onto his new bride in the center of the room. Following his gaze, a smile crept onto Caro’s face. Danni, her new sister-in-law, was bidding farewell to the guests. She practically glowed in her pale pink dress decorated with embroidered red roses. Fresh, red roses were artfully placed in her dark hair. By her side stood the Baron of Seaton, her father.

“Danielle looks lovely,” Caro murmured over the heads of the crowd.

“True,” he whispered, before suddenly smirking. “And she’s carrying my child.”

Caroline stiffened, wide eyes snapping to her brother’s scarred face. Amusement danced over his features.

“My lord, it’s time to depart,” Weller interrupted, suddenly appearing beside Marcus and flashing her a warm smile. Caroline could hardly acknowledge him, her mind so awhirl with this latest bit of information.

Marcus turned to her. “We’ll be home in a week. Weller has our direction if needed.” And with that, Marcus weaved through the crowd to settle by Danni’s side, the valet at his heels.

“Did your brother just—”

At the words, Caro shifted her stunned gaze to the equally shocked expression on the face of her best friend, Althea St. Leon. Of course the woman would have overheard. She had a knack for being in the right place, at just the right time, to hear all the juicy tidbits the
ton
had to offer.

“I believe so,” she finally replied, unable to keep her pale green gaze from Danni’s middle. Her brother would soon be a father…and she was going to be an aunt!

“Oh, my,” Thea murmured, flicking open her painted fan to send a cool breeze across her face.

“Agreed.”

“Well,” the blonde drawled, adopting a knowing expression. “I knew this was going to happen.”

Caro bit back a snort. “And how exactly did you know?”

“Sixth sense. All St. Leons have it.”

Caro gave in to the urge to roll her eyes this time. It was the only suitable response one could give when dealing with her friend’s outlandish statements. If she didn’t, she’d end up throwing a fit trying to reason with her.

“Your brother is looking remarkably well. I am so very thrilled for them both.” Thea fluttered her fan, watching said man sweep his new wife out the door.

Caroline nodded at her friend. “Yes. And our relationship has been much better as of late as well. I can only thank Danielle for that.”

“Does that mean you’ll be moving back here?” The panic in her friend’s voice was unmistakable.

Warmth spread through her chest, turning her proper half smile into a genuine one. She had lived with the St. Leons since she and Thea became fast friends while away at school. She was thankful to them for allowing her shelter during breaks to avoid returning to her father. She loved them all as if they were her own blood. And it felt wonderful to know they didn’t want her to leave. “Of course not. Llywelyn Castle is my home.”

Relief permeated Althea’s posture—shoulders slumped forward, rapid fanning slowed. Happiness burst across her face. “Good. We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Silence lapsed between them, before she suddenly sighed. “With this wedding complete, London will be such a bore. I long for a grand adventure.”

Caro ignored her. The statement was nothing new. Her devilish friend was always concocting escapades for entertainment at the expense of the social elite. Trouble was, they often had a habit of going awry. It was why Caro was hesitant to tell Thea of her conversation with her brother yet. She would probably launch a plot so daring Caroline’s carefully constructed and protected reputation would be in tatters within hours.

A sudden murmur in the crowd drew her gaze. Heads pivoted towards the dining room door in unison.

“What is causing such a stir?”

Thea tried to peer over the heads of the guests without appearing to do just that. Her perfectly coiffed honey locks bounced as she hopped from foot to foot. Caroline’s own interest stirred as the face of the matron next to her turned dangerously pale, paler than the finest ivory.

Gnawing at her bottom lip, she mimicked Thea, straining on her tiptoes. She caught a glimpse of dark hair moving purposely through the guests, people gasping and parting to form a path, quickly side-stepping to distance themselves from the approaching figure.

“Someone’s arrived rather late.” It was clear they were not going to discover what was agitating the crowd. They would have to wait for the gossip to reach them. She tugged Thea to the proper standing position. “Be patient. We will find out eventually.”

The blonde sniffed in annoyed agreement before turning on her heel and dragging Caro towards the refreshment table set up along the long wall of windows. Stopping at the punch bowl, Thea handed her a precious crystal glass and chose one for herself.

She grinned. “I cannot imagine what can be of such interest. The most exciting thing to happen in years was Sir Arthur’s wig falling in the punch bowl at Lady Fairchild’s ball.”

“I seem to remember your oh-so-convenient stumble that caused the displacement of said hairpiece.”

Thea cast her a dangerous look. “Said stumble would not have occurred if a certain close friend of mine had not dared me to see if said hairpiece was attached.”

Caro laughed. “Safe to say it was not.”

Suddenly, a shadow fell across the tabletop. Thea’s grin transformed into a mask of surprised fear. Caro blinked at the sudden change.

“Lady Caroline Bradley?”

Caroline turned to face the source of Thea’s shock, freezing at the dark voice. A little thrill of dread ran up her spine. Standing before her was Lucifer himself. Swathed entirely from head to toe in black, he towered over the room, his height close to that of her brother’s. Where her brother was broad about the chest, this man was lean, his fit body suggesting a catlike agility. Dragging her gaze up from his heavily bearded chin, she met his tilted steel gray eyes. Shivers of something new filled her as he bowed his inky head. Her breath caught in her throat.