“People can be cruel. They will spread vicious rumours about you.” No doubt she would hear some distressing things about him, too. “Rise above it. Do not intimate your looks or character are inadequate. Tell yourself any man would be privileged to call you his wife. Believe you are a diamond in a pond full of pebbles.”
Dainty fingers fluttered to her chest as her breathing quickened. A smile touched the corners of her mouth though he had no notion what she was thinking.
“Now,” he continued, desperate to fill the silence. “I shall find someone to bribe so we may leave here with minimal fuss. I shall inform your uncle of our intentions though I cannot recall his name.”
“Lord Callan.”
Bloody hell!
Mere hours ago, Miss Smythe’s future had appeared bright and full of promise. Now, he did not mind admitting she had no option but to marry a scoundrel. Now, she was to learn that the place she called home no longer belonged to her family. After such heavy losses at the card table, her aunt and uncle would surely struggle to keep themselves from the workhouse.
Chapter 2
Holding the torn bodice to her chest, Priscilla waited near the fountain for Mr Chandler to return. The gown mirrored her reputation: soiled, ruined, ripped to tatters. A mere hour ago life held a wealth of possibilities. The flash of admiration in Mr Mercer’s eyes while dancing the cotillion led her to conclude the mild flirtation might blossom into something more.
But Lady Morford had played Priscilla like a worthless pawn in a game of chess.
Thank the Lord, Mr Chandler saw fit to wreak havoc with the spiteful woman’s plan. Like a knight of old, the gentleman had stepped forward to offer his hand, to drag her bloodied and bruised from the battlefield and promise protection.
Not even Lady Morford could have anticipated his move.
Priscilla knew little of Mr Chandler’s character, other than he owned a rather grand townhouse and was an exceptional host — or so people said. The matrons spun tales of a reckless rogue. A gentleman unfit for timid debutantes. But a man willing to sacrifice freedom to save his friend surely had honour running through his veins. Besides, Lord Morford was a kind, affable soul, not at all the sort to associate with a scoundrel.
Priscilla sighed.
There was little point trying to convince herself of Mr Chandler’s suitability now.
In truth, she found his rugged charm appealing. An air of mystery radiated from his persona. The dangerous glint in his eye made her heart miss a beat.
Still, none of those things accounted for her decision to accept his proposal.
The real reason sounded foolish when she examined its merit. But something about him seemed familiar. It was as though they shared a connection in ways she could not explain. If she closed her eyes, she could picture every line, every mark or imperfection on his handsome face. When he’d kissed her, well, the essence of the man proved potent. It drew her to him in some inexplicable way.
The sound of approaching footsteps disturbed her fanciful musings.
Priscilla shrank back into the shadows and held her breath. Mr Chandler strode into the concealed garden via the topiary arch. With a straight spine and an arrogant grin, he held out the thick wool travelling cloak.
“I’m afraid it’s the best I could do.” His gaze dropped to the ripped bodice of her gown. “It should keep the cold out and protect your modesty.”
Priscilla stared at him. It occurred to her that this man was to be her husband. Was this considerate gesture one of many? Or would he grow to regret his impetuous decision?
“Thank you.” With hesitant fingers, she took the cloak and fastened the garment around her shoulders. “Did you find Miss Hamilton and my uncle? Did you tell them I was ill and had to go home?”
“No.” Mr Chandler tugged at the cuffs of his coat. “What I mean is I found them, but I told them the truth.”
“The truth?” Priscilla sucked in a breath, gulped at the sudden rush of cool air. “But surely—”
“I said we were in love. I explained that the depth of our feelings led to an impromptu incident and now it is imperative we wed.”
I said we were in love.
The words fluttered through her mind. To hear an amorous declaration fall from a gentleman’s lips was all she had ever wanted. However, she’d imagined them to convey a greater depth of emotion, an intense power capable of shaking her to her core.
“But that is not the truth, Mr Chandler,” she countered, knowing the reality of her situation proved vastly different from that of her daydreams.
Mr Chandler closed the gap between them, took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Other than Lord Morford, only we will know the truth. As far as everyone else is concerned, we are hopelessly in love.” The rich timbre of his voice stirred the hairs at her nape. “You have possessed me mind and body — or so others shall believe.”
His emerald eyes twinkled in the darkness. A raw, masculine essence filled the air. There was no need to wear a cloak for protection. He radiated confidence, strength in his ability to fend off an attack.