Secret Valentine

By

Katy Madison

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be
reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written
consent of the Publisher/Author, excepting brief quotes used in
reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to
any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

Secret Valentine Copyright © 2003 by Karen L.
King

Smashwords edition © 2011 by Karen L. King

This novella was originally published as The Bachelor
and the Bluestocking as part of the CUPID CALLING anthology by
Kensington Publishing Corp.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment
only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.
If you would like to share this book with another person, please
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book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use
only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own
copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Other books by Katy Madison:

THE WEDDING DUEL

THE SECOND SHOT

THE WEDDING RUNAWAY

COMPROMISED BY CHRISTMAS (coming soon)

As K.T. Madison

PRESUMED GUILTY UNTIL PROVEN INNOCENT

From Avon books:

TAINTED BY TEMPTATION

ALL ABOUT SEDUCTION

Coming soon from Harlequin Historicals

BRIDE BY MAIL

PROMISED BY POST

"Cecelia Louise Clemmons, what have you done
to Mrs. Parmont?"

Uh-oh
. Cecelia recognized her
guardian's exasperated tone. That he had shouted her entire name
reminded her of the way her mother had scolded her as a
child...back when her mother had been alive. Although her guardian,
Devin Nash, known to all high society as Lord Beauchamp, resembled
a mother about as much as a grouchy lion might remind a chick of
its mother hen.

The steady tread on the stairs rising
ominously toward her made Cecelia scramble out of her stained
smock. She capped the glue and ink pots with shaking fingers,
grabbed the book resting on the side table, and un-bolted the door.
She didn't open it any wider than she needed to slip between it and
the jamb quickly, and ever so gently she pulled the door shut.

Flipping open her book, she moved to the top
of the stairs just as Lord Beauchamp's golden head rose into view.
Life just wasn't fair, she thought with a forlorn familiarity. Her
guardian had a beautiful thatch of wavy golden hair, sky blue eyes
and not an unmanly bone in his Greek-statue body. To make it worse,
he had a smile that sent jolts of electricity zinging through the
air.

As if to prove it, he stopped, leaned against
the rail, shook his head and smiled at her. Cecelia did her best to
note the effect and store it in her head. The fluttering in her
stomach, the rat-a-tat beat of her heart, the urge to smile back.
Instead, she dipped her eyes to her book and tried to make sense of
the squiggles and lines that normally formed letters.

These bodily sensations could be due to the
fear of getting caught, she reassured herself.

When she thought she could speak without
sounding breathless, she said, "Whatever is wrong with Mrs.
Parmont?"

"She's leaving."

"Oh."
Another chaperone bites the
dust.
Cecelia suppressed the giggle that rose in her throat.
"Why?"

"Why indeed? I presume you could tell
me."

No longer trusting her voice at all, Cecelia
shook her head.

He stared at her, his head cocked to the
side, waiting her out.

Cecelia dipped her head to her book,
determined to string at least two words of print together. Reading
had a way of making her feel in control.

"Cecelia?" he prompted impatiently. He rose
another narrow step.

She bit back the urge to fling her arms in
front of the attic door and bar all entrance. Instead, she stepped
down as if she intended to descend to the third floor. She'd have
to scurry back up and lock the door. Not that Devin would exert
himself enough to explore her private sanctuary, but he might send
one of his servants to do it for him if he grew curious enough.

"Did you ask her why she's leaving?" Cecelia
asked.

"She's bored. You're never around for her to
talk to. And if you are with her, you have your nose stuck in a
book. You never want to go out. She feels useless and
unnecessary."

"Well, if you know why she's leaving, why are
you asking me?"

"Cecelia," he drew out her name, enunciating
each syllable. "You know we both can't live here without a
chaperone. You can't attend functions without a chaperone. We won't
ever find you a husband if you don't attend at least an occasional
at home or soirée."

She drew to a halt on the riser above him.
She was rather pleased at being on eye level with him. "Well I
don't want a husband, and I told Mrs. Parmont that she should have
friends call on her here, or she could attend any amusement she
wished. I didn't mind. I knew you wouldn't mind. I didn't know she
was so distressed."

"How could you? Have you spent above fifteen
minutes in her company in the last month?"

Cecelia knew that she hadn't done much to
make Mrs. Parmont feel welcome, but the woman was always harping on
her. Sit up straight, Miss Clemmons. You shouldn't wear that, Miss
Clemmons. Your fashion sense is deplorable, Miss Clemmons. Your
hair is a mess, Miss Clemmons. You'll ruin your eyes with all that
reading, Miss Clemmons. How will you ever attract a husband if you
wear spectacles, Miss Clemmons? Frankly, Cecelia didn't need any
help to feel inadequate in the husband attracting department.

"Well, heavens, if you would have told me it
was my job to entertain my hired companion, I'm sure I would have
exerted more effort in that direction. Although, I'm not quite sure
that we should have arrived at an equitable level of compensation
for the duties."

"Perhaps the amount it costs me to move to a
hotel or rent quarters every time a chaperone leaves would be
enough," he shot back.

Maybe being on eyelevel with Devin was not
such a good idea. She felt suitably guilty, although she didn't
feel
he
needed to know. Too late she remembered he had quite
recently given her a generous allowance. She had just been too busy
to notice Mrs. Parmont's distress. Or to realize that it was more
than her usual griping. "I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't realize
she was about to leave. You know, you could just send me to live on
your estate and forget this whole chaperone business."

He pushed away from the wall. "Do you want to
live in the country?"

Living buried in the country would definitely
make it more difficult to pursue her goals. "No."

He leaned his palm against the opposite wall.
"Good, then, because as your guardian, I should think it would be
difficult to watch over you there or help you get settled."

Settled.
The word made her want to
scream. Why must she marry? What man would want her? And what man
would she ever want after a year of living with Devin? "Oh bother,
you weren't supposed to be my guardian, anyway."

"Yes, I'm sure
your
father meant for
my
father to be your guardian, but as they have both entered
those pearly gates in the sky, and your father named me by title in
his will, the responsibility for you and your future has fallen
into my lap."

Cecelia wished she dared dart around him on
the narrow staircase. She looked to see if she could duck under his
arm. "Your responsibility ends when I reach age twenty-five, and I
assure you, I do not expect your hospitality to continue
forever."

He rolled his eyes. "Cecelia, love, that was
if your father had left you a farthing to fly with. But everything
is gone. He had debts on his debts. I had to sell his estate; you
have nothing to live on, let alone a place to live."

"Yes, I am quite aware of my situation."
Which was terribly dependent on Devin at the moment, but she was
changing that.

"Well, I have thought on it, and I only see
one solution."

Cecelia didn't like the idea of Devin
thinking on anything. She went on much more comfortably when he
wasn't paying her any mind. She liked even less that the corners of
his eyes had just the slightest crinkle around them. "What?"

"Since you have refused to look about for a
husband and you really have no other option but to marry..." He
studied his nails for a moment, wiped them against his jacket, and
studied them again.

Cecelia was ready to burst. Yes, he had quite
lovely hands with long, tapered fingers and neatly trimmed nails.
She supposed Devin could look upon them with as much appreciation
as the next person, but did he need to do it now? "What?"

He looked up as if reminded she was there.
"You'll have to marry me."

Devin watched as Cecelia blinked. Her fawn
brown hair hung in a lopsided twist from one side of her head, and
she had a smudge of something gray on her cheek. He resisted the
urge to rub it off.

She blinked again, looked at one wall, then
the other, down at her book and then back at a wall.

He didn't know what he expected her to
say.

The silence stretched on, and he could not
remember ever rendering her speechless. She wasn't chatty by any
means, but she usually said what she thought.

He studied her dark chocolate eyes. Were they
brighter than normal? Was she about to cry? He had never seen her
cry. Not even at her father's funeral.

She blinked rapidly and lowered her gaze to
her book. Blast his kidneys,
she was
going misty on him. He
hadn't meant to make her cry.

Perhaps he should have gone down on bended
knee. But it hadn't exactly been the formal proposal, more a
statement of intent. Good Lord, would she say anything or just run
for her life the minute he stood to the side and allowed her to
pass?

Bloody hell, he had his ward trapped on the
stairs to the attic, and she looked as if he had just told her to
drink sour milk. He hadn't thought marriage was such a bad idea.
What in heaven's name was she thinking? The wait for her answer,
any answer, made his stomach sink. "We get along well enough, don't
we?"

"That's just
silly
!" The words
practically erupted from her mouth. She looked startled at her own
vehemence. Gripping her book with both hands, she dropped her gaze
to the pages.

"I'll have you know there are many young
ladies who would think marriage to me would be quite a feather in
their cap. Beautiful young ladies, the toasts of the season." Devin
knew that he was overstating his case, but he had thought this out.
He disliked the immense amount of pondering he'd done being called
silly.

"And I'm sure if you really wanted to marry,
you'd ask one of them. No, you just don't want to move out again.
You're just being lazy, like you always are."

She raised her face and pushed her spectacles
up on her nose, which was actually quite an effective way of
blocking him from seeing if tears still filled them, or even
reading her expression.

She continued tearing apart his reasoning, "I
know it must seem like a simple solution. You need not exert
yourself much to marry me, but truly you needn't worry. I will work
out the problem of my future. Don't waste any more time thinking on
it."

She stepped down so they stood on the same
stair and shuddered as she brushed past him.

Now that was uncalled for,
he thought.
It wasn't as if he was some repulsive beast.