Page 35 of Long Live the Baron
The young lady cocked her head, contemplating him thoughtfully. “What if I wish to visit the Continent?”
“Then we shall plan a trip. I could take you to Florence, if you wish.”
Surprise spread over her features. “You would do that?”
“If we wed, I consider it will be a partnership. Your wishes would be as important as my own.”
She sighed. “That sounds lovely, and I suppose I have little choice. I had always hoped to make a love match, but it would seem a marriage of convenience is in order.”
“Perhaps … it would be better to think of it as a marriage of friendship? What you did for me … My late mother would have lauded it as a selfless act. An act from the heart. I can never repay such kindness, but I can attempt to do so. Providing you the protection of my name is the least I can do. Beyond that, I hope we shall build a strong marriage.”
“Is it to be … a faithful marriage?”
Brendan puffed in surprise at Miss Abbott’s frankness. She was an unusual girl, to be sure. “I assure you that Lord Saunton would rip me limb from limb if I even entertained the notion of infidelity. There is no risk of an affair if we wed.”
Miss Abbott nodded. “A marriage of friendship, then.” Sticking out her gloved hand, she waited. Brendan looked down at the appendage in confusion. “Friends shake hands, do they not?”
His lips quirked into a smile. Extending his hand, he took her delicate one and gave it a brief shake, surprised by the firmness of her grasp. She might be so slight that a strong puff of wind could carry her away, but there was no doubt the girl had a backbone made of steel. “It is a bargain.”
At his knock on the ceiling, the carriage soon pulled into motion. Brendan settled back into the squabs of his bench while Miss Abbott watched out the window with avid interest. It was settled. He was to marry the young woman to protect her.
This thought pricked as he recollected his other troubles.
Confound it! What if I get her killed?
Brendan suppressed a groan at the reminder that there might be a murderer lurking in his home. Perhaps he should delay the wedding until the investigation was complete?
CHAPTER9
“Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win.”
Sun Tzu, L’Art de la Guerre (The Art of War)
* * *
JULY 25, 1821
Lily examined herself in the mirror. Soon she was to take her vows, but her critical eye informed her that she still had the appearance of a child. The flouncy gown she currently wore was hardly ideal to set the pulse of a man racing, though she had no wish to appear a harlot such as Lady Slight with her scarlet silk which the widow wore for daywear. However, the widow with her revealing gowns and bountiful diddeys threatening to escape from the bondage of her bodice … Lily was well aware that her betrothed found the woman appealing.
Soughing, she stepped back to lean against the foot of her very tall bed.
It would not do. How was she to compete with such obvious charms while attired like a virginal debutante? She wanted to light the fire of passion in Mr. Ridley’s eyes. To make him notice her as a woman and not as a … friend.
Sophia and the duchess were utterly captivating, but not obvious. Each wore the colors and styles suitable to their complexions, which were as disparate as one could achieve—the duchess had the chestnut hair of Mr. Ridley with brandy eyes, while Sophia was a reddish-blonde with stormy blue eyes. Certainly, the hues Mama wore would suit Lily better than these pastels and whites.
Customarily, one simply wore an existing gown, but …
“Bah! I need a new gown for my wedding.”
“I agree.” Sophia came to lean beside her. “And I know just where to get one.”
“What do I say to Mama?”
“You say you are a grown woman who needs a new wardrobe fit for a married woman, and you will not take no for an answer.”
“And then?”
“Then we hike our skirts and race for the front door where my carriage is waiting before she can argue and waste valuable time.”
