His Perfect Bride(37)

"What is it you are preoccupied with?" Richard tilted his head.

"Nothing of great concern." She dismissively waved her hand as she  strolled to the edge of the terrace and looked out over the dark garden.

"Is it your illness that troubles you?" He took note of her slight intake of breath.

"I have no idea what you are referring to."

"You can't lie to me. I can see it. Among other factors, your face is  lacking your normally vibrant color, and you didn't consume much."

"I didn't realize my every movement was under scrutiny," she snapped.

"It is when I have a reason to be concerned. Please tell me. Are you  ill?" He lightly turned her face toward him. Her breathing stopped, and  she gazed at him with longing in her eyes. As his head slowly dipped  down, she removed his hand and stepped a few paces away from him. Her  back was to him as she gazed out over the railing against the house, and  it made him think about how they first met.

"I don't have an illness. I have simply been unable to enjoy a restful  night's sleep for a few days now. The exhaustion simply is becoming  uncomfortable, for I have found myself fighting sleep at the most  unusual times of the day."

"Perhaps you need someone in your bed each night to tire you out."

"You may be right," she concurred, then turned to face him with a  mischievous smile. "I'll have to keep an eye out for someone who could  aid me with that."

Knowing she only wanted to provoke him, he refused to overreact to her words.

"Make sure to take note of all the qualities you need before making your  selection," he instructed, taking a step toward her. "You must have  someone with an abundance of stamina and expertise."



"He also must be handsome."

"Strength would also be a good quality." Another step.

"He must not be married either."

"Certainly not," he agreed, taking the last step, putting him within  arm's length of her. "He should be available and quite ready for  marriage as well."

Brianna lifted her face to his at the exact moment he leaned his down to  her. Her lips were as sweet as honey, and so eager. Her hands clutched  onto the lapels of his jacket as he drew his arms around to pull her  closer. It had been difficult to see her each day and be denied this  wonderful melding of mouths. He wanted so much more, but knowing the  chances of being caught were considerable, he withdrew from her much too  soon.

"Marry me." Richard's voice was gruff with passion.

"I . . . I don't know."

"Then don't think about it, just accept me. If you do, we can rush to  Gretna Green, and I'll make you mine tonight." He knew it was not likely  for her to agree to such a plan, but he could not refrain from asking.  Painfully aware of how simple it would be to whisk her away into the  night, his body buzzed with the need to act. The hope welling up inside  him made him fantasize about all sorts of impossible scenarios.

"Don't be ridiculous. We could never do such a thing. If for no other  reason, think of how it would rob my parents of the opportunity to host  such a grand affair."

"Then don't deny them. We can have the most outlandish, extravagant  event of the Season. It will be whatever you wish it to be," Richard  whispered, looking deep into her eyes. "Will you marry me?"

Brianna bit her lip, staring back at him with a face full of indecision.  Her hesitation brought him a relief so intense he thought he would  suffocate with the force of it. She was considering his proposal instead  of outright refusing him.

"I need more time," she said at last. "Considering the magnitude of the decision, can I have more time to determine my answer?"



"You may have as much as you would like." Encouraged by her  consideration, but wrestling with the desire to persuade her further, he  fought to restrain himself. "Allow me to escort you back to the drawing  room."

As she took his arm and permitted him to return her to her parents, he  worked on keeping his breathing even and calming his pounding heart. If  he entered that room showing an ounce of the pleasure he felt at this  moment, someone would suspect something.         

     



 

Once she was safely back, Richard took his leave of them. With the  strain he had experienced throughout the day, he would not be able to  control himself for any length of time.

Although the day had been difficult, and he knew the next few days would  be equally so, he felt as though he were invincible. Brianna was  becoming more amenable to accepting him. He could not have envisioned a  more perfect ending for an imperfect day.

Brianna tried to keep her eyes firmly fixed on the ground as she  shrugged her shoulders further into the grey cloak. She was wearing her  oldest and least fashionable garment under the cloak she borrowed from  James. Although too large, the size helped to disguise her feminine  form. Ashley insisted they not draw attention, but Brianna could not  control her wide-eyed stare as she took in her new surroundings. How  could she not be curious?

They were deep within Cheapside, and Brianna knew her mother would faint  if she had any notion of her present location. This was her only  opportunity to satisfy her curiosity of how the other side of society  lived, and she fought with herself to keep her interested gazes to a  minimum.



Although still morning, the street was dark as if constantly under  shadow. Even while riding in the hackney, she felt a change in the  atmosphere, alerting her when they neared their destination.

Returning her eyes to the back of Ashley's skirts, Brianna once again  wondered if her friend really knew where she was going. Ashley only  visited Madam Hershal a few times, and it occurred long ago. Brushing  aside the excitement at the prospect of being lost, Brianna reminded  herself of Ashley's confidence.

"We have almost arrived," Ashley muttered under her breath. "Remember what I told you."

"As promised, I'm not looking at anyone, or anything, for that matter."

"Good."

When they arrived at the nondescript house, Ashley knocked on the wooden  door while Brianna waited behind her. Glancing around Ashley, she was  disappointed by the appearance of the house. Being the home of a witch,  she expected to see something unusual. This place appeared normal and  certainly didn't help answer any burning questions.

The door slowly swung open, and Brianna held her breath, waiting with  both anticipation and trepidation. Before them stood the most beautiful  woman Brianna had ever beheld. Her hair was so golden it shone as if  explaining why the sun didn't shine in this part of London, for the sun  didn't stand a chance against the competition. Her skin was fair, and  her face appeared to have been crafted by an artist. Everything and  everyone measured beside her was put to shame.

Immediately Brianna thought they were at the wrong house. This woman had the appearance of an angel, not a witch.

"Good morning, Madam Hershal," Ashley said, forcing Brianna to tear her  eyes from the vision. "I hope you don't mind our unannounced visit. We  are here to seek your counsel."



"I don't mind in the least," she assured in a musical voice. "Please  come in." Madam Hershal smiled warmly while waving them inside.

"Madam Hershal," Ashley began. "I'm not sure if you remember me. I'm Ashley Grant, and this is my friend Brianna Denton."

"I do remember you, my dear. Come, we can talk in the main room."

As she turned to lead them, Brianna nearly clasped her hands together in  excitement. Since the exterior didn't live up to her expectations, she  had high hopes for the interior. The front hallway was very long.  However, due to her ignorance of this style of house, she could not say  if it was standard or not.

They continued along until the hallway opened up into a large room. The  pieces of furniture were so extravagant, Brianna stopped and stared.  Nothing in either of her father's holdings could compare to the caliber  of Madam Hershal's furnishings. The only thing stranger than their value  was the fact that none of the pieces went together. They were  mismatched, and Brianna could not find any correlation or reason as to  why each one was selected.

"Do you like my furniture?" Madam Hershal inquired with an amused smile.

"Yes." Brianna felt embarrassed her observation was noticed. "Every  piece is quite stunning. I must say, you have exquisite taste."

"Thank you." Madam Hershal lovingly stroked the back of a chair.  "Although they don't share the same pattern, I see such beauty with them  together as a whole."

Brianna didn't understand, but she nodded in agreement anyway. Not only  would questioning her be rude, but Brianna also didn't want to incur the  anger of a witch, even one who looked like an angel.



"Please have a seat," Madam Hershal offered, spreading her arms out to encompass the room.