Page 51 of The Grand Mistletoe Assembly
Did that really just happen? Had Captain Davies—the long-held man of her dreams—proposed a scandalous jaunt about Town together?
And Bryony ran off like a complete ninny in response.
She groaned in embarrassment as she entered the women’s retiring room and headed straight toward the privacy screens set up in the rear, avoiding the floor-length mirror, where a couple of ladies stood examining their gowns and coiffures for the slightest aberration. Once hidden away from prying eyes, she collapsed into a feather-tufted chair, and shock gave way to burgeoning excitement.
Nathaniel’s challenge spun in her mind like ice skaters on the Serpentine River. Years ago, it’d frozen over, and she recalled the multitude of people converging together, slipping and sliding over the ice. Her knees had wobbled with every push forward, while Carter skated circles around her. The same feeling of dizzying delight shot through her veins again, more intense than anything she’d experienced before.
Could she accept Nathaniel’s proposition? Should she?
Society allowed widows certain freedoms, a fact he’d happily pointed out, and Bryony desperately wanted to explore her newfound independence. But was it wise to do so with a man of Nathaniel’s caliber? A former naval captain renowned for his risky exploits at sea as well as whispers of sensual prowess among the women of theton?
Of course, she didn’t possess an excellent record when it came to choosing men. She’d loved Oscar once upon a time—believed they’d live happily ever after—only for that dream to disintegrate into a million little pieces after discovering her husband’s propensity for affairs.
But Nathaniel wasn’t Oscar. He didn’t propose marriage. Just an opportunity to venture into another side of society. A glimpse into the kind of woman she could be if she dared take the risk.
“It’s not as if following the rules has done me any good,” Bryony muttered to herself. Why shouldn’t she leap at Nathaniel’s offer?
Her dream from earlier played in her mind, and she wondered if perhaps it was a sign—her subconscious encouraging her into Nathaniel’s arms. Those brawny arms were still imprinted on her memory from when he’d rescued her from the lake all those years ago. When he’d held her tightly to his chest. When her infatuation with the man had cemented itself in her heart.
“How dare you show your face in polite company. You’re nothing but a whore who enticed my brother into marriage and murdered him in his own bedchamber. How did you get an invitation? Did you bribe someone? You’ve hidden yourself away so long I was sure God had punished you by now, and yet here you are, all decked out like a real lady. You belong in a brothel with the other trollops.”
The vitriolic words tore Bryony’s attention away from Nathaniel as she peeked around the privacy screen. What in the heavens? Never in her life had she witnessed such a dramatic scene, and Oscar had provided quite some competition.
Two women faced off in the center of the room before the accused raced out the door, only to return a moment later when her attacker lobbed another insult.
“Think whatever you like, but don’t you dare voice your foul complaints in a public setting. Your brother was drunk. He stumbled and fell, hitting his head against the stone hearth, exactly as I said at the inquest. He was not murdered, and I was found not guilty. Take care whom you tarnish with lies in the future.” Standing tall, the woman exited the retiring room with the grace of a queen who’d sternly put her subject in place.
Gossip erupted as ladies rushed to the red-faced woman, who glared daggers after her adversary.
Bryony had been sequestered in the country mourning for too long. She didn’t recognize either woman and couldn’t recall a murder trial with a lady as its main defendant. She didn’t think she’d ever be grateful to Oscar for anything, but she supposed him breaking his neck while haphazardly riding his horse was a boon, after all. No one could accuse Bryony of murdering him—no matter how often she’d angrily entertained the idea. Thank goodness for small favors.
Somewhere in the manor, a clock chimed the time. It was now or never.
Determination invigorating her muscles, Bryony exited the retiring room, hurrying past the furious woman who’d cast murder accusations, and searched for Nathaniel in the crowd of guests. She caught a glimpse of Carter’s ginger head bent toward a laughing debutante and headed his way.
“Pardon me, may I steal my brother for a second? I promise to return him soon.” Not waiting for a response, Bryony dragged Carter to a secluded corner of the room. “Have you seen Captain Davies?”
“Isn’t he supposed to be with you?” Carter retorted. “I expressly remember telling you two to stay together.”
“And I recall you were supposed to come back after checking the bids for Oscar’s paintings. Yet I find you flirting instead.”
A reluctant chuckle conceded her point as Carter scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry, sis. Miss Portia required assistance, and one thing led to another and—”
“It’s all right. You’re free to do as you wish.” As was she. Which was why she needed to find Nathaniel. “But I must speak with Captain Davies. Do you think he’s gone off to smoke or drink in the card room? Could you check?”
Perhaps she’d waited too long. Perhaps he’d found another woman to accompany him this evening. Her belly twisted in nerves as she cursed her impulsive flight of fear. If only she’d stayed—like a mature widow rather than a prudish young chit—and accepted Nathaniel’s offer forthwith.
“My, you’re quite frantic, aren’t you? Decided to finally confess your girlhood infatuation in the spirit of the holiday?”
Saint Nicholas himself could have appeared at the ball toting gifts for everyone, and Bryony wouldn’t have been more aghast. “What did you say?”
Carter smirked, tweaking one of her curls. “It’s no secret, Bry. You go all calf-eyed over Davies whenever he’s near, even if you do try to act unaffected. You’re both lucky I know the sort of gentleman he is, or else I would’ve warned you away from him long ago.”
“Does Captain Davies know?” Bryony’s poor heart might expire on the spot if he’d been aware of her tendre for him all these years.
“I don’t think so. He’s not a very good actor either, and I doubt he would’ve kept silent if he knew your true feelings. Although you were married during part of this time …” Carter had a speculative look in his eyes, so she pinched her brother’s forearm to get him back on track.
Lord, save her from annoying older brothers.
