The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

At the sound of Lady Bellingham’s pained breathing, she turned quickly back.

“Please, ma’am, I’m sorry you’re so upset by this matter. Here, let me fetch you your vinaigrette.”

Lady Bellingham closed her eyes and leaned back against the pillows Kate had carefully placed behind her head. She managed to say with some semblance of calm, “Kate, I vow you will much enjoy yourself. We are to see John Philip Kemble perform Macbeth at Drury Lane. The earl will arrive at eight o’clock this evening, and after the play we shall have a late supper at the Piazza, a most delightful place, my dear, I promise. It will be enjoyable, fascinating, really, and the earl is so very, well, manly and really rather charming.”

Lady Bellingham halted her monologue, for Kate was staring blankly ahead of her, seemingly oblivious of what Lady Bellingham was saying.

Drat Julien. Why couldn’t he have chosen a girl to wed who was at least not averse to his suit? Why must he have a girl who positively loathed him?

“At eight o’clock, did you say, ma’am?”

“Yes, my dear.” Her hostess smiled. Finally, she thought, relieved, Kate is coming around to accepting the situation. And although she was quite pale and her green eyes looked strangely blank, she seemed now, at least, quite composed.

“Very well, ma’am,” She bundled the gowns in her arms. “I do suppose I shall very much enjoy seeing Kemble.”

Lady Bellingham didn’t notice the bitterness in Kate’s voice and silently congratulated herself on her deft handling of the situation.

13

Julien rose from his dressing table, satisfied with the exquisite result he’d achieved with his cravat, and allowed Timmens to remove an infinitesimal speck of dust from his black-satin evening coat.

“Does my appearance meet with your approval, Timmens? Ah, before you answer, please remove that Friday-face. It will make my cravat limp. Perhaps it would be a fine idea if you never married.”

“There can be no one to outshine your lordship,” Timmens said, eyes straight ahead. He’d discovered long ago that if he attempted to respond to his master’s little jests, he fell into such a floundering tangle of words he was quite discomfited for days afterward. It appeared to him that the earl was quite amused if he simply pretended ignorance at his lordship’s humor and treated his every utterance with the utmost seriousness.

“Let’s hope you’re right, Timmens,” Julien remarked as he drew on his evening gloves. “Oh, yes, and don’t wait up for me.” Even though his valet dutifully nodded, Julien knew he would be waiting no matter the lateness of the hour, but he never failed to remind his valet not to do it.

It was with a light step that Julien descended the carpeted stairs to the elegantly marbled front hallway. He looked about him for a brief moment before nodding to a footman to open the front doors. It wouldn’t be long now, he thought with satisfaction, before he would know if Kate found his town house to her liking.

Bladen, elegantly clad in the St. Clair scarlet and white livery, hurried to open the door of the carriage for his master.

“Bladen, I find that I’m somewhat early. Pray inform Wilbury that he need be in no hurry.” Julien sat back comfortably against the red-velvet cushions, stretching his long legs diagonally to the seat opposite him.

Wilbury was surprised by this instruction, being used to driving at a spanking pace no matter the occasion. He shrugged his shoulders and gently urged the magnificent matched bays to move slowly forward.

Julien smiled in anticipation of his long-awaited meeting with his future wife. It had been with some difficulty that he’d forced himself not to pay her a visit immediately upon her arrival in London. He realized that he must give her time, time primarily to discover that it was he who was responsible for bringing her here, and time to adjust to the idea that he had no intention whatsoever of letting her go. He knew full well that he’d placed her in a situation where her choices were very limited. She couldn’t return to Brandon Hall. He guessed that she was far too well-bred to behave in an openly churlish manner toward Lady Bellingham. He knew she would be furious at his treatment, but he quelled any pangs of conscience, certain that he was acting in her best interest and, of course, in accordance with his own wishes. He didn’t like the taste of failure. He would make certain he never tasted it again.