Page 15 of Married to the Lord

Chapter Six

Miles could count on one hand how many garden parties he’d attended. They’d certainly never interested him when he was younger when gaming tables, women, and drinking had been more his style, and he forever felt out of place at them now. However, he’d spent over a week avoiding anything that Augusta might be attending and was beginning to feel foolish.

Or more like an ass.

Either way, he had to face her at some point.

When he spotted her, he knew he had not been wrong to come. She was wearing a light lemon-yellow dress and had flowers in her hair. She perfectly matched what was turning into a fine day and seeing her was like a damned punch to the gut. Somehow, he’d pushed that kiss out of his mind, burying it in work and the occasional whiskey. Now it came back to him, sucker punching him with all the force of a heavyweight opponent. He could taste her lips, feel her lithe body, recall the little noises she made. His fingers itched to press into her hair and pull it down around her shoulders.

He’d have a fight on his hands, though, even if she were not bloody engaged to his brother. Apparently, he was not the only one to appreciate her dress and delicate hairstyle. Three men surrounded her as she stood by the fountain. Miles noticed her two friends keeping their distance though watching with interest. Damn them both. They should be protecting her, not watching these blasted men fall all over themselves to speak with her.

He ground his teeth together and weighed his options. One of the men was Edward Jenkins, heir to a shipping fortune and new money. It didn’t matter much to Miles where his damned money came from, but it did matter that the man had a reputation for ruining young ladies like it was a sport. Even if Augusta was not engaged to his brother, Miles still would not want her getting involved with someone like Jenkins.

There was no missing the scowls of the other men as he entered the group. Augusta’s gaze flew to his face, her eyes widening. “Miles,” she said breathlessly.

“It is nice to see you, Augusta,” he said, dipping his head and inserting himself bodily between Augusta and Jenkins.

“You...you too.”

He almost regretted coming closer. She wore a little makeup that emphasized her dark eyes and full lips. Clearly, he had not learned his lesson as he found himself wanting to drag her away to another balcony and kiss her all over again. If they were not standing in Sir Clifton’s garden, surrounded by likely one hundred people, he was fairly certain he might try to take her in his arms again. What sort of an ass of a man had such thoughts about his brother’s fiancée? Sometimes, he suspected he had not changed so much from his younger years as he liked to think.

“Anyway,” Jenkins said boldly, “you should most certainly come. Invite your friends. Mrs. Lockhart can act as chaperone, can she not?”

“Chaperone?” Miles asked.

“Oh, just a little soiree,” Jenkins said, waving a hand. “We have just opened up Carlton Manor for the summer. You must know it, Ashwick. It has quite the reputation.”

Miles clenched his jaw at the title-less use of his name. He rarely cared for formalities but he and Jenkins were not well-acquainted enough for speaking as though they were friends. And he did know of the house, which had been let out to the Jenkins’ family for quite the price. It was over the border in Surrey and too far for Augusta to travel with just her friends as far as he was concerned.

“I do know of it, Mr. Jenkins,” he said with emphasis. “I used to spend time there in the summers when the Ferriers owned it. A fine house indeed, if in need of modernization.”

Augusta issued a tiny gasp and Miles regretted the petty jab.

“I am certain Miss Snow here would appreciate the gardens and the house.” Jenkins kept his gaze fixed firmly on Augusta and Miles could not help glower down at him.

The man was average height and attractive in a polished manner with fair hair and even features. The smile he offered Augusta left Miles in no doubt as to why innocent women fell for him. Miles could not claim to understand the techniques these men used to charm women but it clearly worked. A slight blush had worked its way into Augusta’s cheeks.

“They do sound wonderful,” she admitted. “I have always had a hankering to visit Carlton Manor.”

“Well, then it is decided.” Jenkins shot Miles a smug look. “I shall send an official invite soon.”

Miles cleared his throat and Augusta reluctantly looked his way. “I wonder if I might have a word,” he asked.

She opened her mouth and he knew she intended to make an excuse.

“It is about Henry. Yourfiancé,” he added with a look toward Jenkins.

The man did not seem abashed but Augusta’s cheeks reddened and she nodded, following him away from the crowd of men who appeared sorely disappointed at losing Augusta. Damn them all. They had no right to even look at her like they did. No right to talk to her, to invite her to soirees.

Christ, not that he was any better. He was probably looking at her exactly the same way.

“Do you have news of Henry?” she asked once they reached a rose bush, budding with pale pink flowers. She touched one of the petals with gloved hands, avoiding his gaze, and his whole body ached with the need to rip off those white gloves and feel her bare fingers against him rather than a damned flower.

“I needed to speak with you.”

“So this is not about Henry?”

“Gus, look at me.”

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